


Hogwart's Express

by sparrowshellcat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-07
Updated: 2005-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 48,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now boarding the Hogwarts Interdimensional Express. Please mind the gap."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

One by one, the grains of sand trickled from their smooth glass home, leaving their comrades in time. They were perfect grains - not just regular beach sand, but magically polished perfect little balls of marble. Only the very best of ingredients should be used in delicate magical devices, and in ones owned by the very upper echelons of wizarding society, the very best got upgraded yet another level.

 

            It was a fascinating device, really - all gold and silver and glass and white grains of perfect marble sand. It was delicate, very carefully created, with fine filigree and painstaking carvings all over. The tiny depiction of the life cycles - man on the left and woman on the right - were so tiny, each stage had to have been carved with a pin, or something as minute. The tiny pictures of the newborn infants were small enough to fit on the head of a pin. Wrapped around the finely wrought glass bulbs were two silver carved figures - one of a small cherub child, the other a hunched shadow wielding a scythe.

 

            Birth and death.

 

            Beginning and end.

 

            Alpha and Omega.

 

            Delicate, well-formed, well bred fingers twirled that clever little device, and a single nail, filed and buffed and cut to a neat and tidy half moon shape, tapped at the glass, watching the sand fall gently, never slowing, never speeding.

 

            Time was marching ever on at the rate at which it has always done.

 

            It was a beautiful little thing. It would have cost a very pretty Galleon, and was no doubt also illegal - their custody was carefully monitored, and though the original maker and patron it had been made for were likely not in the wrong for its creation - it’s current owner did not have the proper documentation to make the pretty little bauble legal. He wasn’t supposed to have it.

 

            Though that had never really stopped him before, and as things were standing  _now_ , he wasn’t about to let that stop him now. He had gone through too much to develop the rest of the plan, and this little trinket was absolutely essential to the rest of his design. Too many other things he had scattered around him were also illegal, and if this potion worked as it was meant to, he would be likely thrown in Azkaban for the rest of his living life. Or heralded as a hero, he wasn’t sure which. But in any case, he wasn’t going to let a little thing like him like owning illegal contraband stop him.

 

            Not now.

 

            Not ever.

 

            Smiling a little to himself, he reached his hand - and the pretty little device - forward, over the very edge of a pewter cauldron in which bubbled a viscous black substance. He paused for a moment, then cracked the glass bulbs over the edge of the cauldron, like one breaks eggs one handed in a frying pan. The glass split apart the same way, into two neat halves, and white marble sands poured into the mixture.

 

            The bubbling increased, and as he tossed the remnants to the floor, shattering the glass, the potion began to change colour. From black to red, then onwards to yellow, until it settled on a bright, clean white, and the potion thinned, until it was like thick water, or thin paint.

 

            He immediately scooped up a ladle full of the mixture, and poured it carefully into a glass beaker. Holding that beaker, he took a deep breath, then closed his eyes, threw his head back, and imbibed the concoction.

 

            Lowering the beaker, he set it on the table, and stood there for a moment. Waiting.

 

            For something.

 

            For  _anything_.

 

            Just as he was about to reach for the ladle, thinking he needed another dosage, he let out a horrified gasp, contracted his arm sharply to hold it against his torso, and fell with a bone crunching thud to his knees. Gasping frantically, his shaking hands reached upwards, clawing at his own throat, until he let out one final shrieking gasp, and disappeared.

 

            Gone.

 

            Just like that.

 

            On the black marble floor where only a moment before he had crouched, a shattered and empty illegal time turner gave one last feeble spin, then fell silent.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Hogwarts Express - Now Boarding

 

Track Beta

 

Harry Potter woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and clenching his fists in his blankets, breathing heavily. 

 

“You okay, Harry?”

 

Harry forced himself to look up, to find Neville Longbottom standing between their beds, looking concerned. He was half dressed, his white dress shirt and Gryffindor tie hanging in his hand, and he was biting his lip nervously.

 

“Yeah...” Harry said slowly, drawing a shaky breath. “Just a nightmare.”

 

“Oh...” Neville’s face softened in sympathy. He knew all to well about nightmares. The boys in the Gryffindor tower had been woken many times by Neville screaming in his sleep. He was the only one Harry really talked to about his nightmares, since he was the only one who really understood. “The usual sort?”

 

Harry sighed, and flopped back on his pillow. “Yes.”

 

“Sorry to hear that mate,” Neville sighed, then started tugging on his dress shirt. “But really, you ought to be getting up anyway - breakfast is in about five minutes.”

 

“Is it?” Harry asked in surprise, rising on an elbow to check the clock beside his bed. Sure enough. “Great. And it’s double potions today.”

 

“Yeah,” Neville wrinkled his nose. “At least you can brew the potions half ways decent.”

 

“But Snape hates me,” Harry muttered, eyes rolling skyward to the scarlet canopy over his bed.

 

“He hates all Gryffindors,” Neville pointed out, working on his tie.

 

“True enough,” Harry laughed with a note of defeat in his voice as Ron raced like a bat out of hell into the room, overturning everything, searching everywhere.

 

“Nev,” Ron said frantically, “Have you seen my charms essay?”

 

“I think you put it in your textbook,” Neville frowned, straightening his collar. “In your book bag. Didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Ron sighed with relief, brandishing the slightly flattened parchment roll. “Good. I mean, I worked forever on this thing last night, so if I lost it, Hermione would have my hide.”

 

“Yeah, forever, if you mean an hour between chess matches,” Neville rolled his eyes, then turned to look at Harry, who was still laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. “Hey, Harry! Better get up, unless you want to go to Potions without even a full stomach to handle you.”

 

“I’m coming,” Harry groaned, and rolled off the bed, grabbing for his clothes.

 

Five minutes later, Harry was still tucking his tie into his sweater as he clattered down the steps with Ron and Neville. Hermione was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, left toe tapping at the stone floor impatiently. “Do you boys want to be late?” She demanded, frowning. “Hey, Harry.”

 

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry gave her a slight smile, then hiked his book bag strap a little higher on his shoulder as he followed the others through the portrait hole.

 

As they were walking down the hall, Ginny joined them, and playfully started ribbing Neville. They all knew that she was really flirting ((And not very well, either.)) but everyone just thought it was a little funny, and went with it. After all, Neville never really minded. Course, that might just be because he didn’t seem to realize that she was flirting, but that was hardly the point, was it? Others passing in the hall still whispered as they passed, murmuring to their friends about The Boy Who Lived. Harry sighed. They were in their seventh year, you’d think people would get used to a celebrity’s presence by now?

 

When they arrived at the Great Hall, they arrived at the exact same moment as Draco Malfoy and his band of cronies, Grabbe, Goyle, Nott, Zabini, Parkingson, and Bulstrode. The Gryffindors were perfectly content to ignore the little ferret and go in without a word, when Malfoy said, “Hey there, scar head.”

 

“Shut it Malfoy,” Neville said tiredly.

 

“No, don’t think I will,” Draco smirked.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Malfoy. Calling him ‘scar head’ got old back in first year. You know, when we were all eleven. We’re seventeen Malfoy, don’t you think you could come up with something better than that?”

 

An almost maniacal gleam flashed in Malfoy’s eyes. “What, you mean... like your mudblood, Weasel’s poverty.... or Potter’s habit of stalking celebrities?”

 

Harry’s ears burned red. “I do not stalk celebrities, Malfoy.”

 

Malfoy sneered. “Then why are you following them around, Potty? It’s certainly not because they’re your friends. What, are you hoping some of Longbottom’s fame will rub off on you? You better go catch Creevey, Potty, I think I saw him with the latest Longbottom pictures - I bet you Neville’ll even sign them for you. Make it a real collectible, you can sell it someday, and say that you, little Harry Potter, knew the Boy That Lived.”

 

“Shut it, Malfoy!” Neville snapped, fists clenched, the lightening bolt on his forehead standing out in stark relief to his pale skin. “Bugger off.”

 

“Whatever, Longbottom,” Draco smirked, and breezed past the Gryffindors.

 

“Calm down, Nev, he’s not worth it,” Hermione said practically, then turned to Harry. “Don’t let him get to you, Harry, he’s just being a jerk. You know he does that.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, glowering after the blond prat.

 

Him, a celebrity stalker, indeed!

 

Brushing past his friends, Harry stormed into the Great Hall, thunking himself down with some force at the Gryffindor table, then proceeded to torture his porridge, digging his spoon into it almost vindictively.

 

“Hey,” a soft voice at his shoulder said. “You alright, Harry?”

 

Still glowering, Harry turned, to see the worn but always pleasant face of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He tried to smooth his expression for the other man’s sake, but failed miserably. “I hate him, Peter. Please, can I kill him?”

 

Peter Pettigrew, one of Harry’s father’s best friends from when they had gone to Hogwart’s themselves, smiled. “Afraid not, Harry. I’d have to arrest you myself, and you know that I really don’t want to have to do that.”

 

“What fun is it with an auror for a friend when you can’t even get away with the occasional murder?” Harry muttered under his breath, but the man’s very sharp ears caught the comment.

 

“Come on, Harry, you know it’s not that simple.” Reaching down, Peter ruffled Harry’s already messy black hair. “Coming by my office after dinner tonight? Sirius said he thought he might stop by.”

 

“Is he?” Harry’s eyes lit up at the mention of his godfather. “I haven’t seen him in almost a month! Of course I’ll be there!”

 

“Just try not to get detention between now and then,” Peter laughed, then waved, and made his way back up to the Head Table.

 

Harry felt better already.

 

Half an hour later, that happy feeling he’d gotten at the idea of seeing Sirius again was swiftly withering as Professor Severus Snape did his very best to make Harry’s life miserable. He was working with Hermione, who kept hissing him instructions under her breath, and Harry was doing his darndest to keep up, but it was more than a little difficult.

 

He was only too glad when he got away with nothing more than two or three scathing comments, and was able to get through the rest of his day fairly easily.

 

After dinner that night, Harry was hurrying to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, through the dark castle hallways. He wasn’t that worried about it - he did it all the time - but as he rounded the corner on the darkened third floor, he swore he heard footsteps behind him.

 

Whirling around, Harry found himself staring down a dark hallway.

 

Frowning, he turned back around and started walking again.

 

The footsteps continued following him.

 

Harry froze, spun, but there was no one there, still. Swallowing, he looked around the enclosed space, then called softly, “Hello?”

 

Silence.

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry called again. “Hello?’

 

This time, his question was met with the unmistakable sound of laughter. It was a male’s laughter, youngish, but not too young, pleasant... and at the same time disturbing. It was the sound you’d expect if your best friend was to suddenly tell you that they were going to kill you. You would recognize that happy laugh, but you wouldn’t believe it this time, would think they were playing some sick joke on you. That was the feeling Harry had right now.

 

Without pausing to see who was there, or even to wait for the person to expose themselves, Harry spun, and raced down the hallway as fast as he could, nearly slamming down the door to the office in his haste.

 

Sirius and Peter leapt to their feet at his sudden entrance. “Harry!” Peter gasped. “Whatever’s the matter, my boy?!”

 

Panting, Harry slammed the door shut behind him, sagging against the wood. “I heard laughter. Creepy laughter. And footsteps. And there wasn’t anyone there.”

 

“Maybe it was one of the ghosts?” Sirius suggested, crossing the floor to support Harry by his shoulders. “Harry?”

 

“Maybe,” Harry admitted, though he wasn’t really inclined to believe it.

 

That laugh had been too real to be from someone dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Track Beta

 

            “I thought you might not come.”

 

            One of the two figures moved in the shadows, approaching the other, until they stood only half a foot - at maximum - apart. “Of course I was coming. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

 

            “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the other smirked, then closed the gap between them, and suddenly there were no words, just a mesh of skin and lips and teeth and tongues, and occasionally a gasp or a moan or a whisper. No words.  

 

            They were like one entity, split into two halves, and there in the shadowed alcove in the Hogwart’s dungeons, they were merging back into one, their neatly ragged edges seamlessly fitting back into one another, hands pulling the other closer, frantically trying to reform themself as the one they used to be. “Gods, Draco,” one of them whimpered, head arching back. “I need you.”

 

            “Mm...” the other responded, preoccupied with tugging the other’s red and gold tie off.

 

            “Draco...” he hissed again, grinding his body significantly against the other. “ _Now_.”

 

            “Merlin...” he gasped, then set to tearing buttons off the other’s shirt, ripping it from collar to waist, then tugging it back and away, the belt and pants following moments later.

 

            Hushed gasps became louder, transforming into little cries of passion as one wrapped his legs around the waist of the other, his back being pounded rhythmically into a rough stone wall. “God... need you... so much...”

 

            “Mine,” he hissed, biting down on the collarbone of the boy latched around him like a limpet.

 

            “Yours,” he breathed, head thrown back, eyes closed in ecstacy. “Merlin.... Draco... I’m going to...”

 

            “Roar,” he purred in his hear. “Roar for me, my little Gryffindor lion...”

 

            Moments later, he did, arching his back, and roared in a throaty, deep, lusty voice, signaling his completion.

 

            “ _Draco_!”

 

            As though that were the signal, the other pushed twice more, then slumped forward, the other’s name escaping his lips in a deep, husky groan.

 

            “ _Harry_...”

 

            On opposite ends of the castle, one several floors above ground, and one several floors below, two seventeen year old boys sat up with a sharp gasp, eyes wide, underwear damp.

  
  


            And both of them heard an eerie laughter ringing in their ears.


	4. Chapter 4

Track Beta

 

            Harry looked up in surprise. It wasn’t every day he had Draco Malfoy sit down across from him at his table in the library.

 

            “What are you  _doing_ , Malfoy?”

 

            “I’m sitting,” Draco said sharply, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”

 

            “Okaaay...” Harry said slowly, frowning. “What about?”

 

            Draco looked around for a moment, frowning. “Not here,” he said softly.

 

            Oh, that was rich. Harry snorted. Right. Like he was going to follow  _Draco Malfoy_  anywhere. Not only was the blond Slytherin the biggest prat the world had ever seen, but he had been trying to make Harry’s life a living  _hell_  ever since he first got to Hogwarts. And for nothing more ridiculous than the fact that his owl had managed to flee her cage and come flying to Harry while they were waiting for McGonagall before sorting. Hedwig was a smart bird, to be able to find Harry like that - he was fairly sure Malfoy was just jealous. But whatever the case, Harry was  _not_  stupid, and he was not going to follow the rival seeker just because he said he had to  _talk_  to him.

 

            “Fat chance, Malfoy,” Harry said coldly, crossing his arms. “Either it’s here, or it’s not at all.”

 

            Draco glowered at him for a minute, then his eyes lit up. “Fine then. If you don’t want to know where the disembodied laughter is coming from...”

 

            Harry couldn’t help himself. He leapt to his feet. “You  _know_  about... crap.”

 

            Draco smirked. “I said, not here. Come on.”

 

            He stood, and started walking away, then paused, turning to look at Harry. “I’m not waiting forever, Potter. You might be the Seeker, but you aren’t the Golden Boy. I won’t wait.”

 

            Hastily, Harry gathered up his things, then nearly ran after Malfoy to catch up. Without a word, Draco led them through several hallways, away from the heart of the school and farther towards the Eastern edges. For reasons that no one had ever seemed to explain, this corner of the school wasn’t used nearly as much as the rest of it. Harry was fairly sure there wasn’t even a house dormitory this deep or East into the school. Finally Draco opened a door to an unused classroom, and they walked in, brushed the dust off two desktops facing each other, then sat on the edges of them.

 

            There was awkward silence for a moment, then Harry broke the silence. “Alright, Malfoy. You said you knew about the laughter.” Draco said nothing. “Look Malfoy, I  _really_  don’t have time for this. There’s Quidditch practice tonight, and I still have to finish that Potions essay you pulled me away from. So either get talking, or I seriously am leaving.” When Draco still didn’t answer, Harry pushed himself off the edge of the desk. “Right, Malfoy. You had your chance.”

 

            “When did you start hearing it?” Draco asked suddenly, crossing his arms.

 

            Harry had to pause, and think about that one for a minute. At last, he settled back on the edge of the desk, and answered, “Six weeks ago. Just near the beginning of term. It was at night, on the third floor, in the corridor. I only hear it when I’m alone.”

 

            Draco’s silver eyes actually flickered with surprise for a moment. “Longer than me - I just started hearing it three weeks ago.”

 

            There was an awkward silence for a long moment, then Harry frowned, looking up at the blond. “Wait... why are you doing this? Why did you come to talk to me about this? I mean... it’s not exactly the kind of thing you’d do, is it?”

 

            The Slytherin scowled. “Potter. I have been hearing disembodied laughter at night and now sometimes during the day, so long as I am alone, for three weeks now. I am not  _used_  to hearing disembodied laughter, to put it mildly. It is affecting my school work. I can’t sleep properly. I’ve been jumpy and irritable. I am irritated enough by this whole fiasco that I am determined to stop it any way I have to, and if talking to you to find out what you know about it is the only way to stop it, then I will talk to you if I have to.”

 

            “So... you want us to work together, to find out what’s going on?” Harry asked in disbelief.

 

            A pained expression flitted across Draco’s face at that interpretation of what he had said. “If you  _must_  put it that way.”

 

            “Hmm.” The Gryffindor frowned at that, reaching up to scratch idly at his forearm. “Well, has  _anyone_ else heard it?” He paused then, frowning. “For that matter... how did you know  _I’d_  heard it?!”

 

            Draco sighed, uncrossing his arms to lean back, eyes closing. “Believe it or not, Potter, I’m not stupid.”

 

            Harry rolled his emerald eyes towards the ceiling. “Could have fooled me. Seriously. How did you  _know_?”

 

            Draco frowned, looking away from him.

 

            “Go on, Malfoy, I’m not going to bite,” Harry snapped. “Just bleeding  _tell_  me already, will you? I mean, yes, I know you’re a right bastard, and you’ve been trying to make my life miserable for the last six years and yes, I  _know_  you’re jealous of Neville - don’t give me that look, you prat, you wouldn’t bug him so much if it weren’t true - but I’m not going to go run and tell the whole school you’re hearing disembodied laughter.” He scowled. “I would have to tell them all that  _I’m_  hearing it, too, and that’s not exactly the kind of attention anyone really wants, is it?”

 

            The blond scowled at him for a long moment, then jerked his head away again, and muttered something under his breath.

 

            “What?”

 

            “I said....” Draco paused, gritting his teeth. “I said... I’ve been having dreams. And that’s how I knew.”

 

            Harry’s eyes widened considerably. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

 

            Quicksilver eyes darted over to glance at him. “Does it  _matter_?”

 

            Harry crossed his arms. “If it helps lead to answers about where that laughter is coming from,  _yes_.”

 

            “It’s not important,” Draco snapped, pushing off the desk to stalk around the room, glaring at the dusty floor, and at the dust that was filtering over his perfect black leather shoes as he walked. “I am not doing this out of the goodness of my heart Potter, and if you can’t deal with knowing all the details of my personal life, then I  _can_  walk out of here and find the answer some other way.”

 

            There was a very long, awkward silence, then Harry broke it again, softly. “Did it have anything to do with you buggering me against a wall?”

 

            Draco spun faster than most people believe is humanly possibly, silver eyes gaping, mouth open in shock. “What - ?! You - ?!”

 

            “Because if it is...” Harry’s face and ears were burning red, he was deliberately keeping his eyes on the floor, not even daring to risk looking up at the other. For Merlin’s sake, this boy was his enemy, he  _hated_  him, and would hardly hesitate to use information like this to mock him. Harry was only infinitely glad that at least, if Draco  _did_  do something like that, the humiliation would be confined to Hogwarts, and would probably die down within a couple weeks. If  _Neville_ , the bloody Boy Who Lived were to be having this conversation with Draco Malfoy... he could imagine the headlines on The Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. “Well.... it’s just that.... I have kind of been having the same dream.”

 

            Thump.

 

            Harry looked up in alarm, to find that Draco Malfoy had settled himself with a complete lack of grace on the wide window frame, dust still swirling about from his cumbersome drop to a sit, his mouth agape and his eyes so wide Harry could see the white all around the silver irises.

 

            “Are you all right?” Harry ventured, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected such a....  _dramatic_  reaction.

 

            “You...” Draco croaked, looking worse off than before, not better. “You’ve had the  _same dream_?!”

 

            “Well... it’s not exactly like it was  _my_  idea to dream that...” Harry shot back, his ears burning again. “Look, let’s just... not talk about it. We’re having.... the same dream, and we’re both hearing laughter.” Taking a deep breath, Harry refused to look at the other, and tried to will his blush to disappear. He was  _seventeen_ , for Merlin’s sake, not twelve! “Maybe it’s just me, but does the laughter seem at all familiar to you?”

 

            “Familiar?” Draco had managed to compose himself somewhat, and now lounged almost casually in the window sill, one foot propped up across from him, arms crossed. He was still covered in dust, though. “I suppose it  _might_  be familiar... I hadn’t thought to compare it to anything. Why, you think you recognize the person who’s doing the laughing?”

 

            “Not really,” Harry admitted, frowning. “But I swear I’ve heard that person laugh before - and more than once, for that matter. Actually, now the laughter seems.... more pleasant that I remember.”

 

            “So you’re saying that whoever is laughing at us behind our backs and possibly in some way affecting our dreams - because there’s  _no way_  I’d dream that myself, obviously - is someone who normally mocks you and has laughed at you on a regular basis?” Draco let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. “Sounds like half the wizarding world, Potter.”

 

            Harry froze. “Do that again.”

 

            Draco paused, looking confused. “Do what? Mock you? I do that anyway, Potter, it’s not hard.”

 

            “No,” Harry snapped, frustrated, shaking his head. “ _Laugh_.”

 

            “Laugh?” The blond repeated, then sneered. “Potter, you really  _must_  have been dropped on your head as a child, because absolutely no one else would...”

 

            “Are you ticklish?” Harry interrupted, standing abruptly, face grim and strangely serious.

 

            “What - ? Most certainly not! No Malfoy would be something as mundane and lowbrow as  _ticklish_!” Draco spluttered.

 

            “That’s what I thought,” Harry rolled his eyes, then whipped out his wand, and snapped, “Rictusempra!”

 

            A moment later, Draco tumbled off his perch on the window sill, falling to and rolling on the dusty floor, clutching his stomach and laughing hysterically. Now the laughter Harry had been hearing was more than familiar - it was right in front of him. The laughter he had been hearing whenever he was alone for the last  _six weeks_  was no one’s but Draco Malfoy’s. “Finite incantium,” he muttered, frowning. Just why was Malfoy coming to talk to him about fixing this, anyway, when  _he_  was the one laughing? Was this some kind of stupid joke?!

 

            Draco, meanwhile, had collapsed onto his back on the floor, spread-eagled, chest heaving, but the laughter continued.

 

            “You can stop that,” Harry muttered. “I get it. Real funny, ha ha. Bug Harry Potter, that’s always fun. Had enough?”

 

            “I... am... not... laughing...” Draco wheezed, struggling to push himself up to a sitting position. “That... hurt.”

 

            “You’re not....” Harry gaped at Draco, who really  _wasn’t_  laughing, then around at the ceiling and walls from which the laughter seemed to be coming from. “Then what...”

 

            After a few more tense moments in which the boys just stared at each other, the laughter finally dwindled down, the way someone usually calms down from a usual laughing fit, then Draco Malfoy’s distinctive drawl filled the room. “Oh, you two  _are_  priceless. You two are fun. Not all of you are typically this co operative. I  _do_  look forward to pursuing this one further. Until then, do behave yourselves, won’t you?”

 

            Draco and Harry could only stare at each other. “Was that... that was  _my_  voice!” Draco cried at last, indignant. “Someone is out there, using a spell to copy  _my_  voice!”

 

            “But...” Harry hesitated, confused. “Why would they  _do_  that?”

 

            Draco froze, then very slowly, admitted, “I don’t know.”

 

            There was a moment more of silence, then Draco stood, trying in vain to brush the dust off his clothes and hair before hurrying to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he paused, turned, and looked back at Harry. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

 

            “Wait, Malfoy...” Harry hurried forward, barely managing to grab the blond’s arm before he left. Draco froze, staring down at where Harry held his arm like it was something particularly nasty. “You’re just going to leave, like that? You aren’t even going to try and figure out  _why_  someone would use  _your_  voice?”

 

            Draco closed his eyes, not moving for a long moment, then said quietly, “Of  _course_  I am, Potter. But I am beginning to suspect that your presence would not help me figure it out. After all, this person is not using  _your_  voice. Now... will you  _let go of me_?”

 

            Harry yanked his hand back like he’d been burned, and scowled at the Slytherin. “Fine. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

 

            Then he brushed past the blond, and stormed down the hallway. “Stupid Slytherin,” he muttered, and laughter followed him down the hall.

 

            And to be honest, he wasn’t sure whose it was.


	5. Chapter 5

Track Beta

 

            “Potter...” A voice crooned, and Harry snorted, and rolled his face further into his pillow.

 

            “Oh, Potter.... wake up....”

 

            “Le’ me ‘lone...” Harry muttered into his pillow, crunching his eyes tighter.

 

            “Oh, I really think you’ll be wanting to wake up, Potter,” the voice continued, then cold breath trailed over Harry’s ear, and the edge of the bed dipped under the weight of someone climbing onto it. “Or I’ll make sure your entire dormitory knows I’m here...”

 

            “Don’ care...” Harry grumbled, throwing an arm over his head.

 

            “Oh, I think you will....” the other purred, moving so that they straddled Harry’s right leg through the blankets, though not actually touching him. “You want all the other Gryffindors to see a  _Slytherin_  in your tower?”

 

            “Slytherin...?” Harry grunted, slowly coming to realize that he was not only awake, but that he was going to have to be _more_  awake shortly.

 

            “Mm-hmm...” the other murmured, then dropped their head down again to  _lick_  up the side of Harry’s face. “Slytherin.”

 

            Harry was awake at  _that_  one. “What the-?!” he yelped, sitting up sharply, nearly smashing his forehead off the head of the person practically sitting on him. Blinking rapidly, he tried to figure out who the blurry, shadowed shape was.

 

            “Graceful, Potter,” the shadow smirked, then twitched a wand, hissing, “Silenco. There. Now we can talk properly  _without_  waking your housemates.” They shook their head, snorting in disgust. “Because trust Longbottom the Golden Boy to think he has to come to your  _rescue_.”

 

            “What...” Harry started again, reaching up to rub his eyes, bewildered that this person was  _still_  practically sitting on his leg. “Who....  _Malfoy_?!”

 

            “In a sense,” the blond said lightly, then rocked back on his heels to land with a bounce on his rear end. “I hope you’re well... I haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

 

            Harry gaped at the other boy, still very confused.  _Malfoy_ , in his  _bed_ , with a silencing charm, and  _licking Harry’s face_.... Remembering that little detail, he quickly scrubbed at his cheek with the back of his knuckles, then responded to Draco’s question. “Are you  _insane_? We had Care of Magical Creatures together today. Yesterday. Whenever, you know what I mean. Remember, you told Neville that he should never get an Augurey because it would never stop singing?”

 

            Draco laughed, but in that same way that the disembodied voice had been laughing. Wait... the disembodied laughter... that he _hadn’t_  heard for a few weeks. “I told you, I’m only Malfoy  _in a sense_.” He smirked. “I’m not  _your_  Draco Malfoy.”

 

            Harry blinked at him. “I don’t  _have_  a Draco Malfoy, thanks.”

 

            This Draco sighed, rocking back idly. “Pity, that.”

 

            Harry couldn’t quite understand what was going on. Had this been in the middle of the day, or perhaps anywhere  _but_  inside his curtained four-poster, or with anyone  _but_  Malfoy, he would have realized what an intensely bizarre situation this all was, and probably would have been throwing curses awhile ago. Instead, he just sat there, confused. It was the middle of the night, he was still wrapped up in his blankets in his darkened bed, and the last person on the earth that would be sitting on his bed  _was_  sitting on his bed. In other words, this was all quite impossible, and therefore couldn’t actually be happening.

 

            It had to be a dream.

 

            Harry was quite content to believe it was.

 

            “So...” he decided that, since this was a dream, he may as well find out what this supposed Malfoy imposter wanted. “Why are you in my bed?”

 

            A brief flicker of what might almost be described as sadness flitted across Draco’s face. “Besides the fact that maybe I would _want_  to be here?”

 

            Harry snorted, flopping back onto his pillow. Funny, dream Malfoy wasn’t really quite as much of a prat as usual. “Draco Malfoy would not want to be in nobody Harry Potter’s bed. First,” he held up one finger, lazily looking up at the scarlet ceiling of his poster bed. “Draco Malfoy is  _not_  gay. So he wouldn’t want to be in some guy’s bed. Two,” a second finger joined the first. “He hates me. So that just rules me out, even if he  _were_  gay. Three,  _I_  am not gay. Therefore, that just rules all the rest out.” Harry yawned, pausing for a moment, then continued. “Four. If Draco  _were_  gay, and after a Gryffindor - which he wouldn’t be - he would be going for Neville. You know why? Because the rivalry between Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom is practically legendary, it’s Slytherin Prince versus Gryffindor King. It’s like Shakespeare, ‘my greatest love from my greatest hate’ and all that bullocks. He would  _not_  be coming for a nobody like Harry Potter, that he picks on kind of as an afterthought.”

 

            “You sure of that?” Draco asked, leaning over Harry’s torso to examine his face.

 

            “Yep,” Harry sighed, then closed his eyes. “So this dream can end any time now, so I can go back to regular sleep. I’m tired, and I have potions in the morning.”

 

            “That really how you feel?” Draco murmured, softly.

 

            “Sounds about right.” Harry sighed.

 

            There was a smirk in Draco’s voice when next he spoke. “Guess I’ll have to work on you two a bit harder than I thought I might have to.” Cold breath blew over Harry’s ear again, making him shiver. “Talk to him, Potter.”

 

            “To who?” Harry muttered sleepily, already well on his way to falling back to sleep. Already, he swore he couldn’t move if his life depended on it, his limbs were so heavy...

 

            “To Draco,” the other said, as though it were obvious. “Talk to Draco. Maybe he’ll have an idea or two.”

 

            “Mm...” Harry agreed idly, and couldn’t remember later whether dream Draco Malfoy ever actually left or not.

 

            What he  _could_  remember in the morning was that he didn’t hear the alarm clock, he didn’t hear Dean yell at him before going to shower, and he didn’t hear Neville when the other boy yanked back the curtains to yell at him that he was late.

 

            He  _did_  feel the pillow connect with his head, and sat bolt upright, looking around frantically. “Wha’ - huh?”

 

            Neville said something, then frowned, whipped out his wand, and snapped something else. The morning sounds of showers running and boys talking suddenly flooded in around Harry, and Neville crossed his arms, giving Harry a stern look. “Harry, why in the world did you have a  _silencing_   _spell_  around your bed, and why didn’t you pull it down before going to sleep?”

 

            Harry blinked. “I didn’t...”

 

            Oh.

 

             _Oh_.

 

            Dream Draco.

 

            Who wasn’t looking like such a dream, after all.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Track Beta

 

            Draco was not having a good morning to begin with.

 

            Besides the fact that his dreams had been filled with bizarre sequences of himself yelling at...  _himself_  for being so stupid as to not notice a good thing in Potter ((Harry bloody Potter! What was his subconscious  _thinking_?!)), he had woken up this morning with hair that  _refused_  to be tamed properly, and then Pansy Parkingson’s owl had delivered good news from home, so she’d jumped up, squealing, and spilled her pumpkin juice all over Draco’s perfectly buttered toast.

 

            And now, to make things all the more sweet, as they waited in front of Snape’s potions dungeon, Potter himself comes storming up to him, and slams him back against the wall.

 

            “What - ?!” Draco started, Crabbe and Goyle both leaping forward to his defense, but Harry broke them off, yelling.

 

            “What the fuck was  _that_  all about, then?!” he bellowed, face red.

 

            Everyone, including his Gryffindor friends, stared at him. “What?” Draco asked, exceedingly confused.

 

            “Oh, I suppose you think it’s  _funny_ , do you?!” Harry roared, fists clenched at his sides as though he were trying to hold himself back from leaping on Draco and giving him a bloody nose. “I suppose this has all been one big joke all along, let’s make fun of Harry Potter, shall we?!” He was practically shaking, he was so angry. “Well,  _I’m not laughing_!”

 

            “What the fuck are you  _talking about_ , Potter?” Draco snapped, confused as all get out, and none too pleased to have the Gryffindor seeker yelling in his face.

 

            “Like you don’t...” Harry suddenly paused, as though confused, then slowly said, “You don’t...?”

 

            “Don’t  _what_ , Potter?!” Draco fumed.

 

            “You want me to pound ‘im?” Crabbe asked, cracking his knuckles.

 

            Draco actually considered it for a moment, then sharply shook his head. “No. Potter and I are just going to have a little  _chat_.”

 

            “Leave him alone, Malfoy,” Neville broke in, arms crossed, hazel eyes snapping at his rival. Like Harry had said, their rivalry was practically legendary. “Grow up.”

 

            “It’s okay, Neville,” Harry said, watching Draco’s eyes carefully. “Let’s talk, Malfoy. Now.”

 

            “No, Mr. Potter, now is  _class_ ,” Snape’s oily voice broke in, and Harry’s shoulders slumped in frustration. “I’m sure whatever you have to say to Mr. Malfoy will keep until after my class. Inside, now.”

 

            Reluctantly, Draco pushed himself off the wall Harry had pushed him against, then straightened his robes, and strutted into the classroom. Sitting gracefully in his seat beside Blaise, he glanced across the aisle, to where Harry plunked himself down, resting his head on his folded arms. The other boy looked exhausted, Draco realized, and he was fairly sure the other hadn’t been at breakfast, either. What in the world had he been yelling at him about, anyway?

 

            “Today you will be brewing the aging potion, and you will be working in pairs.” With a flourish, Snape procured his list, and began reading them off. “Weasley and Granger, Crabbe and Goyle, Parkingson and Bulstrode, Potter and Finnigan, Malfoy and Longbottom...”

 

            Draco tuned out the rest of the list, and focused instead on making The Boy Who Lived come to him instead of the other way around. Finally, Neville sighed, gathered up his things, and went to sit beside Draco.

 

            To his own surprise, Draco just wasn’t in the mood to push insults on the Golden Boy today, so instead worked in silence, stealing contemplative looks every once in awhile of Potter. What in Merlin had he been  _talking_  about, he wondered? Finally, class ended, and Draco delivered their perfect potion to the front, no thanks to Longbottom, of course. Draco had really done all the work - Neville was utterly abysmal at potions.

 

            The second Draco was out the door, he was most alarmed to find his elbow grabbed, and found himself being dragged further down the hall. Blinking, he discovered his abductor was Harry, and so it really wasn’t all that surprising after all, and loosened the death grip he’d had on his wand. “All right, Potter. Going to explain to me what all that was about this morning?”

 

            “Not here,” Potter muttered, exactly copying what Draco had said to him a few weeks earlier.

 

            Finally, Harry pulled them into a quiet classroom, locked the door, then cast ‘silenco’ before finally relaxing and collapsing onto a desk. “I had a dream last night. Well, I  _thought_  it was a dream.”

 

            Draco’s eyebrows shot upwards. “And that warranted an attack on me?”

 

            Harry sighed, closing his eyes. “I dreamed that  _you_  climbed into my bed up in Gryffindor tower.”

 

            Draco snorted. “Don’t worry, that  _was_  a dream.”

 

            “That’s what I thought,” Harry nodded. “I mean, why would  _you_  of all people come crawling into my bed, threatening to tell everyone that you were there if I didn’t wake up? That’s not exactly your style, is it? But it  _was_  you... well... ‘in a sense’. You said it was you ‘in a sense’, and that I had to come talk to you.” Harry groaned. “So when I woke up this morning and the silencing spell was still up, I realized that it hadn’t been a dream, and I thought that it all had to be some big joke. All of this, some big elaborate joke you had planned from the start.” He shook his head. “But then you really  _didn’t_  know what was going on this morning.”

 

            “Maybe I’m a good actor,” Draco shot back, playing Devil’s Advocate.

 

            “Not  _that_  good,” Harry snorted.

 

            There was silence for a moment, then Draco frowned. “You said that ‘I’ told you that you had to talk to me. What about?”

 

            Harry’s ears turned red again. Draco had noticed that they tended to do that a lot when he got embarrassed. Interesting. “Err.. well... about why you’d want to be in my bed, actually.”

 

            Draco froze. “What?”

 

            “Well, see, I was explaining to... er... ‘you’ about why you would never want to be in my bed. You... well.... ‘you’ didn’t really buy it, and said I should talk to you, that you might have a few ideas.” Harry was  _very_  red, by this point. “I just thought it was a messed up dream, until that spell...”

 

            Draco’s jaw was hanging. “No, I would  _not_  want to be in your bed!”

 

            “That’s what  _I_  said,” Harry protested. “I told him that even if you  _were_  gay and after a Gryffindor, it’d be  _Neville_ , not me, and...”

 

            Draco nearly lost his breakfast. Gagging, he spluttered at Harry. “I would not want  _Longbottom_!”

 

            “I said ‘if’...” Harry tried again, but Draco interrupted him again.

 

            “God, no, Potter! I don’t care how much you hate me, but do  _not_  say that! I would never,  _ever_  look at Longbottom that way, even I were a bleeding fairy pouf with pink bloody hair and wore  _tutus_! No ifs, ands, or buts! Not a bloody chance!”

 

            “But...” Harry started again, but Draco leapt off his desk, stormed forward, and grabbed Harry’s shoulders, shaking him.

 

            “I would rather sleepwith _you_  than even  _look_  at Longbottom like that!”

 

            Laughter began to fill the room, and both boys froze, Draco’s hands still on Harry’s shoulders. There was the sound of footsteps behind them, and both spun, only to have their jaws drop. Draco’s grip on Harry’s shoulders tightened, but Harry seemed not to really notice, instead reaching up with one hand to grab hold of Draco’s robe, gripping it tightly in his fingers, as though trying to convince himself that Draco really was there.

 

            Because across the room, arms crossed casually over his chest, smirking that trademark smirk, stood Draco Malfoy.

 

            He leered at the two of them, then said, “Now we’re talking.”


	7. Chapter 7

Track Change

 

Track Alpha

 

            Harry Potter woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and clenching his fists in his blankets, breathing heavily. 

 

            “You okay, Harry?”

 

            Harry looked up with surprise, to see Neville watching him, concerned. The other boy was half dressed, and held his uniform shirt in one hand, his tie in the other, and looked concerned.

 

            “Yeah,” Harry sighed, flopping back on his bed. “Just a nightmare.” 

 

            Neville’s eyes widened a little. “Was it about... You Know Who?”

 

            Harry shook his head, staring up at the canopy above his head. “No... it was a lot weirder than that. I dreamed there were _two_  Draco Malfoys.”

 

            Neville snorted. “That  _is_  a nightmare.”

 

            Ron suddenly barreled into the room, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. “Harry, have you seen my Charms essay?” he panted, overturning everything he could get his hands on in his mad search.

 

            “I think you put it in your bag, didn’t you?” Harry yawned, then crawled out of bed, gathering up his things for a quick shower. “With your textbook.”

 

            “You’re right,” Ron agreed with a groan of relief, brandishing the slightly crumpled parchment. “Here it is. Hermione would have _killed_  me if I lost this... I so do  _not_  have enough time before class to rewrite it.”

 

            “Not that you did a particularly amazing job on it the first time around,” Harry jibbed, then laughed at Ron over his shoulder as he headed for the bathroom.

 

            Slipping under the hot water, Harry relaxed, trying to analyze what he had dreamed before it slipped away. Two Malfoys. That was weird. Well, that was really beyond weird, to be honest. It was more like... yeah, Neville was right. A real nightmare. But it was, after all, only a dream, so it wasn’t like there was  _really_  two Malfoys.

 

            Although, if there  _were_...

 

            Harry frowned, reaching for his shampoo, and pouring a liberal amount onto his scraggly hair. That  _would_  explain that time last week when they were all standing in the hallway waiting for Potions class, and Harry could  _swear_  Malfoy had been whispering in his ear, but Draco was down the hall, hadn’t even been looking at him, and  _certainly_  wasn’t whispering. Harry mused over that for a moment. Well, it wasn’t like it was something Draco would have said, anyway.

 

            “ _Look at him, Potter. You can’t pretend you’re not interested_.”

 

            Harry had jumped, confused, and when he looked around frantically, trying to place the voice, there had been a light chuckle in his ear, then, “ _You look insane right now, Potter. I meant_  Malfoy,  _who did you_ think  _I meant? Honestly._ ”

 

            At the time, he’d thought it was either Draco playing off some prerecorded spell, or maybe someone else playing some stupid prank, but he had no idea, now. Was there really two Malfoys?

 

            Ten minutes later, Harry was tugging his book bag onto his shoulder as he barreled down the stairs, nearly running into Ron at the bottom. “Morning,” he said cheerfully.

 

            “Morning, Harry,” Hermione grinned, then the three of them began walking towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione and Ron were talking about that Charms essay ((Well, Hermione was lecturing, Ron was protesting.)) and Harry was simply content to let his mind wander, until the familiar voice he’d been contemplating just that morning broke into his thoughts.

 

            “Hey, Scarhead.”

 

            Harry looked up sharply, and found himself only two steps away from invading Draco’s personal space. Draco was smirking, arms crossed, looking very pleased with himself. He looked exactly like the second Draco of his nightmare. “Hey, Malfoy,” he said lightly, and made to pass the Slytherin in order to get into the Great Hall.

 

            His progress was halted by a pale hand snaking out, and grabbing his arm. “Excuse me?” Draco said, sounding absolutely shocked. “That’s  _all_  you have to say to me?”

 

            Harry stared at the blond, utterly flabbergasted. “Ah... yes?”

 

            Draco shook his head, looking like he was about to say something, when a very familiar voice snapped, “What the  _hell_  is going on here?!”

 

            Suddenly, the hand gripping Harry’s arm was gone, and so was Draco. Just like that, he had utterly disappeared... except that he stood just another three feet away, looking livid.

 

            “What the bloody hell just happened?!” Ron gaped, deathly pale under his freckles.

 

            Harry blinked, then turned to look at the new Draco. “There are  _two_  of you?”

 

            “Obviously not, Potter.” Draco snapped, furious. “What kind of sick joke was  _that_?!”

 

            “ _Me_?!” Harry stared at him. “ _I’m_  not the one who cast some fucked up duplicating spell! You’re the one whose got  _clones_  running around, I didn’t do anything!”

 

            “Language, Potter,” another voice snapped, making everyone jump. “Potter, Mr. Malfoy, come with me.”

 

            “But Professor,” Hermione started. 

 

            Snape gave her a frigid glare.

 

             _“Now_.”

 

            Swallowing their insults, Harry and Draco quickly hurried after the potions professor, each intent on ignoring the other’s existence. When they arrived at his office in the dungeons, Snape ushered them inside, then had them sit side by side in front of his desk. Steepling his fingers, Snape frowned at the both of them, watching them.

 

            “Professor,” Harry burst out at last. “It had to be Polyjuice...”

 

            “Potter.” Snape said coldly, cutting him off.

 

            Sighing, Harry slumped back in his seat, crossing his arms.

 

            “Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said at last, “Do you have any reason to believe that someone may have brewed a Polyjuice potion so as to imitate you?”

 

            Harry’s eyes widened. Snape was going with  _his_  opinion?!

 

            Draco sounded as surprised as Harry felt. “No, sir, I didn’t... until I saw that just now.”

 

            Snape nodded thoughtfully. “Potter, that individual - whoever it was - did not act as Mr. Malfoy typically does towards you.” He fixed his dark eyes on Harry’s. “Do you have reason to believe that this individual has attempted contact with you before, as Draco Malfoy?”

 

            Harry swallowed, feeling his ears grow hot, then nodded.

 

            Draco’s mouth fell open, and Snape sat back in his chair, sighing as though he had expected this. “Do tell, Potter.”

 

            Staring down at where his hands rested on his lap, Harry cleared his throat, then began. “Last week, outside your classroom, I thought I heard Malfoy whispering in my ear. He was telling me that I should be looking at Malfoy, and that I looked insane, looking around for who was whispering.”

 

            “Why would he want you to be  _looking_  at me?!” Draco spluttered, looking horrified.

 

            Harry’s ears burned hotter. “He said... he said... thatIcouldn’tpretendIwasn’tinterested.”

 

            Both Slytherins gaped at him, until Snape rapped his knuckles on the desk, and repeated, “He said you couldn’t pretend you weren’t interested? In what, Mr. Malfoy?”

 

            “That’s what he said,” Harry nodded, refusing to look up.

 

            Thump.

 

            Draco had rather dramatically fallen back in his chair, eyes wide, horror written all over his face. “Merlin,” he murmured. “You had _better_  be joking, Potter.”

 

            “ _I_  didn’t say it,  _he_  did!” Harry yelped, quite thoroughly horrified himself, thank you very much.

 

            “That’s so  _like_  you, Potter!” Draco snapped, fists clenched. “You just  _live_  to bugger everything up, don’t you!?”

 

            “Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said cooly, halting the tirade. “Anything else, Potter?”

 

            Glaring at Draco out of the corner of his eye, Harry nodded. “I dreamed last night that I... er... talked to Malfoy about something. I’m not sure what it was...” he frowned. “Something about  _Neville_ , I think. But then, when we were talking,  _another_  Malfoy just... appeared, out of nowhere.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t know if it was just a regular dream, or...” he glanced at Draco, and swallowed. “You know, the other kind.”

 

            “Hmm.” Snape frowned, considering that, and completely ignored the odd looks Draco was giving Harry.

 

            In the silence, Harry looked down at his hands, thinking furiously. What  _was_  going on? Was there two Dracos? Someone with Polyjuice potion? And if it  _was_  Polyjuice, why would they want to make Draco act differently to Harry? One would normally think that if they had turned into someone in the school, that any outsider would have been trying to  _kill_  Harry, not act nicer to him than the person he was disguised as would normally. After all, if Draco Malfoy were to kill Harry, it’d be a bad thing, yes, but it wouldn’t be entirely unexpected. That person with the Polyjuice  _could_  have gotten away with it. But instead, they try to make Harry think Draco’s not a complete prat?

 

            That seemed more than a little odd.

 

            “Boys,” Snape said suddenly, breaking the silence. “This is a very serious problem, and both of you seem to be integrally tied to it.” He took a long breath, then closed his eyes for a moment. “I realize that this is somewhat of an unorthodox solution, but I believe the two of you should work together temporarily. Try to figure out why anyone would want to disguise themselves as Mr. Malfoy in an attempt to affect Potter.”

 

            They both leapt to their feet, about to protest, but Snape snapped his eyes open, fixing them both with a cold glare.

 

            “I am well aware of the fact that you may despise me further than you already do for this decision, but believe me when I tell you that this is the wisest decision.” Standing, Snape rounded his desk, and hands draped behind his back, began to pace the small room. “Firstly, the war is, as you both know, gaining speed and devastation with each passing day. Any person that is disguising themselves as a student in order to infiltrate this school is a distinct and tangible threat. Secondly, whether either of you like it or not, you two are often seen as the ‘leaders’ of the opposing forces within this school.” Snape shook his head. “You two are the two largest threats and the two most threatened students here. That someone is attempting to reach you is more than disconcerting. Thirdly...” here Snape paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am going to trust the two of you to keep this to yourselves, and not going off to blather about this to all your little friends. Or to  _anyone_  more significant.” He fixed them both with a fierce look. “Understood?”

 

            Reluctantly, the two Seekers nodded, and slowly sat back down.

 

            “Good,” Snape nodded once. “I myself will attempt to discover what is going on. If you notice anything else - either of you - I want you both to report to me immediately. Do you understand?”

 

            Both nodded again.

 

            “Good. Dismissed.”

 

            Both rather much in a hurry to get away from the Potions professor, Draco and Harry scrambled from their seats, then from the room, both fully intent on getting as far away from each other as possible as soon as they left the room.

 

            That wasn’t quite the way things happened, however.

 

            The moment the heavy wooden door was closed, both boys found themselves slammed back against it with a surprise attack of magic. Frozen back against the door, they found themselves face to face with the very same individual they had been discussing moments before, watching them with a smirk.

 

            Harry swallowed, then glanced over at Draco. “You want to tell Snape, or shall I?”


	8. Chapter 8

Track Alpha

 

            “You two are remarkably hard to get together, and without your friends, did you know that?”

 

            Draco and Harry both swallowed, looking with wary concern at the person who stood in front of them, arms crossed, smirk across his pale, pointed face. To say that having Draco pinned to the wall beside him  _and_  standing in front of him was disconcerting, Harry would have been understating the situation dramatically.

 

            “That is because we tend to  _avoid_  each other’s company,” Draco snapped peevishly. “Let me down, or my father  _will_...”

 

            “Oh, posh.”

 

            Draco’s jaw dropped, completely aghast. Did they just... no, they  _could not have_... Argh!

 

            “You think I’m scared of  _Lucius_?” the imposter Draco laughed, sounding surprisingly pleasant for having the ferret’s voice. “Oh, that one  _is_  priceless! I was right, you two are  _infinitely_  more amusing than half the others! Fell like a house of cards, the others did, especially compared to you! Oh! Scared of  _Lucius_... the very idea...”

 

            Harry swallowed, and glanced over at Draco. “You aren’t normally  _that_  cracked, are you?”

 

            “Shut it, Scarhead,” Draco muttered, then froze when the other’s laughter halted immediately, and mercury eyes so eerily familiar fixed him with great ferocity.

 

            “Stop insulting him!” He hissed, taking another step closer, and grabbing the front of Draco’s shirt, tightening his grip. “You don’t even  _realize_  what you have...” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, then leaned forward, resting his forehead against a startled Draco’s. His blond hair feel over his quicksilver eyes, falling to mingle with Draco’s, and even perfectly heterosexual ((Thank you  _very_  much, Hermione and your ridiculous ‘Harry in the closet’ theory, honestly)) Harry had to admit that, as disturbing as this all was, the spectacle was bloody hot.

 

            “You have  _no_  idea,” the copycat Draco began again, eyes closed, leaning his forehead against Draco’s. “You two live in the same castle, so within  _reach_  of each other, and you  _hate_  each other?! I cannot understand it... he is  _right_   _there_ , Draco. How can you _not_  just take your chance, while you have it? He’s  _right there_...”

 

            Harry glanced over at Draco, and was surprised to see Draco’s wide, silver eyes focused on him, as though begging him to save him.

 

            Harry, however, was quite unable to do anything.

 

            Whether he really wanted to save Draco or not.

 

            Because, of course, of course he didn’t  _want_  to.

 

            Of course not.

 

            Suddenly, the imposter Draco pulled away from the other, spinning to look at Harry, pale brows furrowed over his flashing silver eyes. “And  _you_! You...” he hesitated, then his face seemed to crumple, until Harry could  _swear_  that this imposter Draco was going to burst into tears. “Why?!”

 

            Harry spared a glance at Draco, who looked as confused as him, then ventured, “Why what?”

 

            Imposter Draco looked up sharply, then reached a shaking hand towards Harry. “I just... I just need to touch...” He suddenly jerked his hand back, before it had even touched Harry, cradling it against his chest. “No, I can’t, I can’t...  _not this one_!”

 

            And then he disappeared.

 

            As abruptly as he had the last time, just there one second, then utterly and completely gone the next.

 

            Unfortunately, the spell he’d cast on them...

 

            Hadn’t disappeared.

 

            Harry frowned, tugging on his arms. “I’m stuck.”

 

            “Brilliant observation, Potter,” Draco sneered, tugging at his arms too. “Can you reach your wand? I can’t reach mine.”

 

            Harry paused, tried, then slumped against the magical bonds.

 

            “No.”

 

            Silence, then...

 

            “God, I hope no one sees us like this.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Track Alpha

 

            “I  _cannot_  believe he’s forcing us to spend time together,” Draco huffed, arms crossed, glaring at the opposite wall.

 

            Harry, quite frankly, had to agree.

 

            Fortunately ((Fortunately? A dubious choice of words, in Harry’s opinion.)) Snape had come out of his office about fifteen minutes after the imposter Draco’s disappearance, and had let them down. No one else had come along before he had, and thank Merlin, Snape wasn’t the type to laugh at his students. After they had finally managed to get the story out, ((They had kept insulting the other’s intelligence and memory, which delayed the tale somewhat.)) Snape had had the audacity to give them both  _detention_ , and when they’d arrived that night for said detention, he had written his instructions on the board, then left.

 

            Without a single word!

 

            Written on the board, in Snape’s typical brisk style were the following notes:

 

             _You cannot explain this if you are insulting each other every other word._

 

_Learn to deal with each other._

 

_The Veritasum will wear off in three hours._

 

            Oh, that was right, Snape  _had_  done something else before he had left. He had handed them each a glass, glared at them until they drank it,  _then_  marched out without a word.

 

            Well, Harry figured, if neither of them spoke, then there would be nothing for the Veritasum to react to, and then they were off the hook. To be honest, he was surprised that Snape hadn’t anticipated that loophole.

 

            That is, until Harry felt an odd burning sensation at the back of his throat. Frowning, he tried coughing a few times to relieve the itch, but it only got worse. Despite the fact that he knew the other didn’t have his wand, Harry had to glance over at Draco. Maybe he’d done something to him. Instead, Draco looked as alarmed as him, sticking his tongue out and making little gagging sounds. That is, until he realized that Harry was looking at him, then he sat sharply back up, glaring. “You don’t need to stare, Potter.”

 

            “Yes I do,” Harry blurted out, much to his own shock, and clamped his hands over his mouth. Spinning away from the flabbergasted blond, Harry glared at the blackboard, eyes widening when he realized that there was something else added to the previous notes on the board.

 

             _The burning sensation in your throats is a component in the potion I gave you. It will persist and increase unless you talk._

 

Oooh.... that Bastard!

 

            “Shit,” he snapped, relieved that saying it aloud  _did_  in fact help his throat. “Malfoy, read the board.”

 

            Draco did, and started swearing himself, though Harry had to admit, the Malfoy’s profanities were far more clever and creative than his had been. For that matter, they were downright eccentric. Reminded him of someone... someone from a muggle comic book he’d read once, one of the ones Dudley kept on the bookshelf in his second bedroom, but Harry couldn’t place the character. Well, it didn’t matter that much.

 

            “Billions of bilious blue blistering barnacles!”

 

            There was a silence for a long moment, then Harry ventured, “Feeling better?”

 

            “Yes,” was the petulant response.

 

            “So...” Harry said slowly, after another long and rather tense moment. “I suppose we have to talk.”

 

            “We do not, you git.”

 

            Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Malfoy, I do  _not_ want to incur Snape’s wrath today, all right? I am sick and  _tired_  of getting picked on by him, and today is not really a day I want to have that happen again. If talking to you is the  _worst_  I have to do to avoid that, then I will. So insult me if you _must_ , but say  _something_.”

 

            There was silence for another moment, and just as Harry was about to try again, Draco finally answered.

 

            “Fine. We’ll talk.”

 

            Encouraged slightly by this, Harry straightened, looking over at the blond, who was glaring at his desk as though he could light fire to it with nothing more than his gaze. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

            Draco lifted silver eyes to fix him with that same glare. “You were the genius who thought of this - you think of something.”

 

            “Okay,” Harry nodded, thinking. “We’ll start this off easy. What’s your name?”

 

            Draco snorted, but the Veritasium pressed him to answer. “Draconius Lucian Malfoy. I don’t need to ask yours - everyone knows yours.” He rolled his eyes, then in a mocking tone, lilted, “‘Harry James Potter’, the Boy Who Lived.”

 

            “I didn’t  _ask_  for that title,” Harry grumped, crossing his own arms. “All right... er... what’s your favourite class?”

 

            “Potions,” Draco shot back, without a moment’s hesitation. “Let me guess yours.... Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

 

            Harry bit the inside of his cheek, glowering. Okay, so he was predictable. There were worse fates. “What’s your favourite hobby, then?”

 

            “Reading,” Draco shot back without a moment’s hesitation.

 

            Harry was honestly surprised with that one. “Not Quidditch?”

 

            “You have rather taken all the enjoyment out of playing that sport,” Draco shot back dryly. “But I suppose that’s  _your_  favourite thing to do, beating me to the Snitch?”

 

            “No,” Harry said firmly, then a moment later: “Just flying.” 

 

            Draco snorted. “It’s the same thing, Potter.”

 

            “No, it isn’t,” Harry insisted. He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to explain this to  _Draco Malfoy_  of all people, but he felt somehow that this had to be explained. “I don’t play Quidditch for the game, and the sport’s not really all that fun. I mean, sure... it’s great to get that rush of adrenaline when you catch the Snitch and everything, but that’s not why I play. I play... I play because then I just get to be on my broom. I feel  _right_  when I’m flying, does that make sense? I’m off the ground, I’m separated from all that bullshit about saving the world from Voldemort, I can’t even hear what people are saying properly once I get flying. It’s like my own little world in the air, when no one can touch me, and I don’t have to answer to anybody.” Harry paused for a moment, staring off into space, then abruptly shook his head, ears turning pink. “I must sound like an idiot.”

 

            Draco rolled his eyes, and looked like he was about to agree, when instead, he blurted out, “You don’t sound like an idiot.”

 

            Harry gaped at him, and Draco clamped his mouth shut again, looking furious with himself. Of course. The Veritasium.

 

            And with that, Harry got a decidedly Slytherin idea. It would be right capital, to see just what, exactly, he could get out of Malfoy. After all, he _had_  to answer - the Veritasium  _made_  him!

 

            “Malfoy,” Harry said casually, almost lazily. “Do you really hate mudbloods?”

 

            Draco lifted his chin proudly. “Yes.”

 

            “Why?”

 

            Draco looked alarmed, but opened his mouth to answer anyway. “Because they are unpure. They bring in Muggle ideas and values with them, changing the old wizarding ways. They have corrupted the minds of younger generations of wizards with their stupid Muggle beliefs, and now we have all the problems we have.”

 

            Harry’s brows rose. Interesting. “What kind of problems do they bring in, Malfoy?”

 

            Draco looked livid, but had to answer. “Even seventy years ago - just a little before our parent’s generation - before the Muggle influence really began to explode into our world, before the Dark Lord arrived and changed everything, things like.... like same sex couples weren’t a problem in the Wizarding world. Still aren’t, among the Pure Blood families, but among the mudbloods and the half bloods, they think it’s disgusting, because the _Muggles_  think it’s disgusting. Your father wouldn’t have minded, Potter, your precious Black wouldn’t have minded, I doubt even the halfblood _werewolf_  would have minded, but your mother?” Draco snorted. “Your muggle born mother would have been disgusted with something like that, Potter, and  _that_  is the kind of problems mud bloods bring with them.”

 

            Harry’s fists were clenched on his lap, barely keeping himself from jumping Draco and pounding the living daylights out of him. “How do  _you_ know what my mother would have thought, Malfoy?!”

 

            Draco looked up sharply, a strange glimmer in his mercury eyes. “How do  _you_  know, Potter?”

 

            Harry almost took offence at that, then paused, relaxing in his chair slightly. Draco was actually right. Harry  _didn’t_  know what his mother would have thought about something like that, and it suddenly worried him. Not that he was gay and therefore had to wonder what his mother would have thought of it - oh no - just that... well, what would she have thought about  _a lot_  of things Harry had done? Was doing?

 

            Was going to do?

 

            Draco was the one to break the silence this time. “Look, I know about my  _own_  situation in this whole thing, but I do have to ask, Potter. You didn’t grow up in the wizarding world. You didn’t even know what a Malfoy was until your Weasel ‘friend’ told you. Why didn’t you accept my hand, back in first year?”

 

            Harry frowned, chipping at the desktop with his thumb nail. “You were rude, and Ron had been nice to me. And... and you’d insulted Hagrid, back in the robe shop.” He swallowed, not wanting to say more, but the Veritasium was pushing the words out. “I refused... I refused because I had _wanted_  to be your friend until you insulted Ron, and then... then I just felt like I had to protect my new friend’s honour.”

 

            Draco gaped at Harry, who was now quite red. “You had  _wanted_  to be my friend?!”

 

            “Until you were a complete prat, yeah.” Harry shrugged. “You’d seemed... cool. Sophisticated, you know, like you knew everything about everything. I suppose I was intimidated, until you insulted Ron, then I  _had_  to stand up to you.”

 

            “Huh.” Draco almost laughed. “Who would have guessed, the Boy Who Lived had  _wanted_  to be friends with the Slytherin Prince.”

 

            “Yeah, well what about you?” Harry demanded, glaring at Draco from under his fringe, keeping his head down. “Why  _did_  you offer to be my friend, back then?”

 

            Draco flushed, eyes on the desktop. “Who  _didn’t_  want to be friends with Harry Potter? I just felt... I felt we’d be good friends, somehow. Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter. The two only sons and only heirs to the two most well known names in wizarding society.” Draco laughed humourlessly. “And then you went and got yourself sorted into Gryffindor, so it wouldn’t have worked out even if you hadn’t snubbed me.”

 

            “It almost would have,” Harry said softly. 

 

            “What?” the blond asked, frowning slightly.

 

            “Dumbledore’s the only other person to ever hear this,” Harry said after a moment. “So I suppose you ought to feel honoured or something.” Harry turned his eyes ceiling-ward, worry frown creasing his forehead. “The sorting hat didn’t want to put me in Gryffindor. I was only put there after I convinced it to put me in any house but Slytherin.” He sighed. “It told me that I could be great, that Slytherin would help me on my way to greatness, but I had just had that fiasco with you... and I refused. I begged it to put me in any house but Slytherin, so it decided on Gryffindor.”

 

            Draco’s jaw was hanging. “You... Dumbledore’s Golden Boy,  _you_  were almost a  _Slytherin_?!”

 

            Harry nodded, locking his jaw.

 

            The blond threw back his head, and burst into raucous laughter. “You  _begged_  it to put you anywhere else, so Gryffindor was it’s second best for you! You were supposed to be a  _Slytherin_ , you little bugger, I could have even  _been_ your friend without my stupid father getting mad at me! You little _prat_! A  _Slytherin!_ ”

 

            “Yeah...” Harry muttered, smiling a little despite himself. “Silver and green does nothing for me, though.”

 

            “You horrible liar,” Draco laughed, then paused for a moment. “Wait, you can’t lie, Veritasium. You mean you really  _believe_  that? Oh, Merlin!” Draco cracked up twice as bad as before, and while he was having his fun at Harry’s expense like normal, this didn’t seem... as malicious as normal. It was almost like the ribbing that went on between the guys in the Gryffindor dormitory. “Merlin, Potter, they were right, you really  _do_  have no fashion taste!” Struggling out of his seat, still laughing, Draco yanked his tie off, then tossed it over the desk to Harry. “There, put it on.”

 

            Harry stared at him. “Are you crazy?”

 

            “No, put it on, I want to prove a point.”

 

            Shrugging, but still very dubious, Harry tugged his own tie - still knotted - over his head, then pulled the silver and green one on, sticking his tongue out between his teeth as he concentrated on tying the knot.

 

            “What are you doing?” Draco said suddenly, almost puzzled.

 

            Harry paused, looking up from his task. “Tying the tie?”

 

            “No,” Draco waved lazily at Harry’s head. “The tongue.”

 

            “Oh.” The spectacled boy shrugged, returning to the tie. “Nervous habit. I stick out my tongue when I’m concentrating.”

 

            There was a moment’s silence, then Draco admitted, “It’s an interesting quirk. Almost... cute?”

 

            It sounded like a question, but Harry hoped it had been rhetorical. He  _really_  didn’t feel like trying to find a way to answer that one. Instead, he concentrated on the knot, until he had it right. He never really had gotten the knack of tying them, despite the fact that he had to wear one every day for school. Usually he’d just leave them tied from the day before, or get Hermione to help him.

 

            “There.”

 

            Draco cocked his head to the side, frowning thoughtfully. “You should really use a full Windsor knot with that collar, instead of a half-Windsor, but it’ll do.” He then nodded, looking surprisingly pleased. “See, you do look good in Slytherin colours. They bring your eyes out more than the Gryffindor ones do.”

 

            Harry snorted to himself. They brought out his  _eyes_? God, Draco was beginning to sound more and more like a pouf.

 

            “Yeah,” and here Harry smirked, in a disturbingly almost Malfoy like way, “But could you imagine  _me_  in Slytherin?


	10. Chapter 10

Track Change

 

Track Gamma

 

            Harry Potter woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and clenching his fists in his blankets, breathing heavily. 

 

            “You okay, Harry?”

 

            Harry bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded quickly.

 

            “You  _sure_?” the other asked, and Harry squeezed his eyes tighter closed for a moment, before glancing up at the questioner. The boy in question was tall, much taller than Harry himself ((A fact that had been pointed out to him dozens of times before.)), gangly, and altogether looking like he was still an awkward fourteen year old and not seventeen. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, mainly because it was gripped in his left hand, along with his tie.

 

            “Yes,” Harry nodded, allowing the other boy a slight smile. “I just... I just need a shower.”

 

            “All right,” the other nodded, though he still looked worried. “I have your back, Harry.”

 

            “I know.”

 

            Harry was just gathering up his things when another house mate barreled into the room, overturning and rooting through everything in sight. “Have you seen my Charms essay?”

 

            “In your book bag, with the textbook,” Harry called over his shoulder, heading into his favourite shower.

 

            As he relaxed under the steaming water, Harry moaned in contentment, and let his mind wander to the dream he’d been having. It had been rather odd. Draco and him had been in Detention together. Though  _why_  Professor Snape would  _ever_  force him to drink Veritasium and talk to Draco was really quite beyond him. That made no sense whatsoever.

 

            Half an hour later, Harry was clean, dry, comfortable, dressed in his robes and uniform, and was just slicking the last of his very uncooperative hair back. It never  _did_  want to cooperate, no matter  _how_  many stupid holding charms he had on it. Muttering one last one, with one last practiced jab of his wand, he  _finally_  got that stupid little spit curl to keep itself back in line with the rest of his jet black hair. Relieved, he nodded sharply at his smartly dressed reflection, then bent to retrieve his bag, and headed out of the Dormitory, down to the Common Room.

 

            Slipping in the door, he spotted his friends lounging on the couches by the fire - guaranteed seventh year domain - and leaned over the back of the largest one, immediately beside his best friend’s head. “Good morning.”

 

            “Morning, Harry,” the others answered, except for one, who instead turned his head from where it leaned against the couch right beside Harry’s folded arms.

 

            His morning greeting was slightly different.

 

            “Hey, scarhead.”

 

            Harry smirked, and shot back, “Hey, ferret.”

 

            Laughter broke out around him, and his best friend rolled mercury eyes. “ _Must_  you remind me?”

 

            “If only to know that the high and mighty Lord Draco has a flaw in his perfect record,  _yes_.” Harry’s smirk grew, until he patted Draco companionably on the shoulder, knowing that there was no real malice meant in the remark. “Breakfast?”

 

            “You and your stomach.” Draco snorted, standing. “Are you  _always_  hungry?”

 

            “Not always,” Harry said academically, as though this were a serious conversation. “Sometimes I’m tired.”

 

            Gibbing each other good naturedly, the group of Slytherins headed towards the Great Hall, where the unfortunately, bumped into two of the rather infamous Gryffindors at the front entrance. “Potter,” Ron Weasely hissed, eyes narrowed.

 

            Harry arched an eyebrow. “Weasel.”

 

            “He’s not worth it, Ron,” Hermione Granger hissed, tugging her red headed friend’s arm. “Come on, Ron. Let’s go.”

 

            Ron shook her arm off. “You so smug because you won that Quidditch match last week?”

 

            Harry blinked quite innocently, and glanced over at Draco, who returned the innocent look. “I suppose I am. Why?”

 

            Ron sneered. “It was just against Hufflepuff, you know that doesn’t mean anything. Gryffindor’s going to  _cream_  you next match.”

 

            Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly, but Harry held up a hand, holding them back.

 

            For now.

 

            Draco snorted. “Not with  _your_  sister as Seeker, Weasel. Has she even ever  _seen_  the Snitch?”

 

            Ron’s face turned as red as his hair, and he took an angry step forward. “Why you little...!”

 

            “Face it, Weasel. You’ve already lost.” Draco smirked, then linked his arm through Harry’s. “You’ve been losing since the train our first year. Come on, Harry, let’s get some breakfast, and lose the peasants. I feel contaminated already.”

 

            Harry smirked, his devious enough to easily rival Draco’s. “We might need another shower before class. Thank Merlin neither of them  _touched_  us.”

 

            Laughing, the Slytherins trooped towards their table, leaving behind a pair of steamed Gryffindors.

 

            “The looks on their faces!” Blaise chortled, passing the bread basket on to Harry. “Weasel was just  _itching_ to say something, you know he was!”

 

            “I don’t know why he keeps bothering you,” Draco directed this comment at Harry, frowning slightly. “He  _did_  lose the day you decided to be  _my_  friend instead of his. Merlin, could you imagine what would have happened if the Sorting Hat had tried to put you in _Gryffindor_?!”

 

            Harry shuddered. “Merlin, that would be terrible. Am I glad it never suggested it. And besides, you know Dumbledork said that my pulling Salazar’s sword from the Sorting Hat second year means that I belong in Slytherin.”

 

            “Not to mention being a bloody Parselmouth and an heir of Salazar himself,” Nott shot back, grinning. “Hey, Harry, how you feeling?”

 

            Harry smiled slightly, knowing that Nott was just concerned because of that scene this morning, what with his abrupt wake up and all. The other boy was just concerned for his well being. That was one of the greatest things about Slytherins - sure, they all knew what they wanted, and they all wanted to get it for themselves, but they also realized that they were alone in the school. The other three houses were liable to gang up on them, so the Slytherins were a very tightly knit group. Thy all watched each other’s back, they held each other up, and they all knew how to protect each other.

 

            Sometimes with any means necessary.

 

            Whether those means were legal or not.

 

            “I’m fine,” Harry nodded.

 

            “Why,” Draco asked, leaning forward to examine Harry’s face, concerned. “Are you all right?”

 

            “I just had a strange dream,” Harry said lightly, waving away the concern. “I just woke up abruptly, it’s alright.”

 

            “It wasn’t...?” Draco let the comment hang, waiting for an answer.

 

            “No.”

 

            Draco knew about the dreams Harry had of Voldemort. He knew that Harry had been the one to defeat Voldemort once as a child, and he had been with Harry every time Harry had encountered him since. He had been the one to sort out the potions after Blaise took the Knight’s attack on that chessboard back in first year. He had been the one to reluctantly guard the idiot Lockhart while Harry had gone to rescue Pansy. He had stood beside Harry and helped both Harry and Sirius kill Peter Pettigrew in third year. ((Partially because he  _had_  been the Weasel’s pet, and killing something of Weasel’s was just extremely cathartic.)) He had been the one to wrench Harry from that Mad-Eye freak back in fourth year, clutching Harry to his chest and refusing to let go until finally Snape realized something was wrong and followed up on the hunch and broke into the idiot’s office to find the real Mad-Eye. In fifth year, he’d caught the prophesy when Harry had tossed it to him, had stunned his own father - which Lucius had ordered him to do, of course, because the senior Malfoy had been forced to at least keep up the pretense of following Voldemort if he was to be a halfways decent spy - and he’d hugged Harry fiercely, letting him cry all over his designer robes when Sirius was dropped through the veil. He’d been there in sixth year when Harry had finally managed to arrange the rescue of Lucius and Narcissa, nearly draining his own magical stores to create that shield around Harry and himself so Voldemort couldn’t Adavra Kedavra them. He spent summers with him, split between 12 Grimmauld Place and Malfoy Manor, since after that disastrous summer before second year when he spent considerably less than the planned two weeks with Harry at number 4 Privet Drive, Dumbledore had finally agreed - since the two boys would just find a way to get around him anyway - to let Harry spend his summers with the Malfoys.

 

            In other words, Draco was Harry’s best friend, his confidant, his brother in all but blood. ((Though the blood oath they’d sworn in second year could legally bind them, in the magical world, as joint heirs to both families.))

 

            And he certainly knew about the dreams.

 

            Draco looked relieved, but dropped his voice so that it was low enough for only Harry to hear. “So, Snape’s Occulemency lessons...?”

 

            “Are working,” Harry confirmed softly, then nearly jumped when someone suddenly dropped their arms around his and Draco’s shoulders.

 

            Nearly, that is.

 

            “Paranoid much, Draco?” the other teased, and Harry and Draco both relaxed, Draco releasing his hold on her wrist.

 

            “Morning, Pansy,” Harry smiled lightly, craning his head to look up at the black haired girl. “What are you doing, dare I ask?”

 

            She pouted lightly. “Am I not allowed to visit with my best friends?”

 

            Harry and Draco exchanged sidelong glances, smirking. “Sure, Pans. But can you get off me? Draco’s getting jealous, you know.”

 

            “Yeah right,” Pansy snorted, but pulled her arms off their shoulders, and sat down on Harry’s right. “I don’t think Draco is capable of being jealous, when he never lets you out of sight, even for the entire summer holidays.”

 

            Harry rolled his emerald eyes. “I  _do_  get bathroom breaks, Pans. Give poor Draco a break.”

 

            “Yeah,” Blaise agreed sarcastically. “Because you know poor little ickle Draco-kins doesn’t  _ever_  get any kind of a break. He has such a  _hard_  life...”

 

            “Shut it Zambini,” Draco said cooly, obviously deeming Blaise’s comment unworthy of any more attention than that. “Harry, can you pass me the jam? The raspberry concoction they have over here is atrocious.”

 

            Obligingly handing over the jar of strawberry, Harry turned to Pansy, asking, “Did you manage to figure out that last point for the Charms essay?”

 

            Pansy let out a snort of disgust. “Yes, Potter, I did. And if you had been able to figure it out yourself, I wouldn’t have had to finish your essay for you.” She rolled her eyes, and dug a neat parchment scroll out of her bookbag, handing it to Harry. “I fixed your grammar up while I was at it. I don’t know  _why_  I do this for you...”

 

            “Because your handwriting is so much neater than mine,” Harry said lightly, unrolling the top enough to check it over a little. “Good, looks good. Thanks, Pans.”

 

            Pansy gave him an expectant look. “Well? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

 

            Harry let out an exasperated laugh. “How  _this_  is still your fee, I don’t know...” Then he leaned forward, and as Pansy had demanded since first year as payment for editing and rewriting his essays for him, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Paid in full?”

 

            “Paid in full,” Pansy said smugly.

 

            Laughing, Blaise reached over to tap Harry’s hand, then when he got the brunette’s attention, jerked his head towards Harry’s left. “Looks like Draco’s jealous again, Harry.”

 

            Grinning, Harry leaned forward to watch Draco himself, and his grin grew when he noticed that, yes indeed, Draco looked furious. He never  _had_  liked Pansy’s system of payment, and actually seemed to resent the fact that Harry asked her for help. It’s not like Draco was the kind of person who would have edited Harry’s essay for him anyway - it was just that, as best friend, he normally would have been the one Harry should have asked first.

 

            “Don’t be mad, Draco,” Harry said innocently, then before Draco could resist, move, or even look up at him, Harry ducked his head, reached forward, and dropped a fast kiss on his best friend’s cheek. “Better?”

 

            “Potter!” Draco spluttered, wiping his cheek fiercely with the back of his hand. “That was bloody disgusting!”

 

            Harry laughed, leaning on Draco’s arm. “It wasn’t  _that_  bad, was it?”

 

            “Yes, it bloody was!” Draco snapped, but with a slight smirk.

 

            “Go on, Draco,” Blaise snorted. “You know you liked it. Hey, Harry.... if you  _do_  want someone who appreciates it...” He held his hands out in an open, welcoming expression, grinning. “I’m sure I can give you a few  _suggestions_...”

 

            “Don’t you dare,” Draco lost the smirk, his left hand crossing his own body to grab Harry’s upper arm, gripping it tightly. “Harry, don’t listen to him.”

 

            “Ow,” Harry said, glancing over at the blond. “Got the point, stop squeezing. I wasn’t going to anyway.”

 

            Pansy leaned over to rest her elbows on the table, then her chin on her hands. “Draco, darling, your only his best friend, not his boyfriend. It’s cute that your possessive and jealous, but sometimes you get a little paranoid with it.”

 

            Draco was giving Pansy a very cold silver glare, so Harry laughed, poking the other boy good naturedly. “Relax, both of you. I am _nobody’s_  boyfriend, and as such, I require someone like Draco to keep me in line. Besides, he’s practically family, and brothers are supposed to be over-protective, correct?” When neither party showed any sign of breaking the stalemate of glares, with him caught directly in the middle, he sighed. “We  _are_  still in the Great Hall with the rabble, if I must remind you?”

 

            Instantly, both parties looked away from each other, and resumed the eating of breakfast. Harry rolled his eyes, and bit down on his toast.

 

            “Slytherins,” he muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

Track Gamma

 

            Harry touched down on the emerald Quidditch grass, laughing.

 

            “Oh, it wasn’t  _that_  funny,” Draco shot back, landing himself about five metres away. “You actually  _swallowed_  the Snitch once, just because one hit me in the ear...”

 

            Harry just continued to laugh at the image of the Snitch smacking Draco straight in the side of the head, nearly knocking him off his broom in shock. Hefting his Firebolt, Harry tossed the broom onto his shoulder, then turned to grin at his friend, who was lifting his own Firebolt. “You have to admit, Draco, it  _was_  funny.”

 

            “Easy for you to say,” Draco snapped, then shook his head and sighed. “Let’s go put our brooms back in the shed - then we could go walking if you want. It’s a nice night, and Snape won’t care if we get back after curfew.”

 

            Harry tilted his chin back to look up at the dark, star spangled sky, and smiled wistfully. “It is a beautiful night. We can go sit by the lake.”

 

            “Good idea,” Draco agreed, and they hurried to put their brooms painstakingly back on their racks, then headed down to the shore.

 

            The lake was calm and clear, without a single ripple on its black surface. The stars were glinting reflections in it, and in the reflected starlight, the grass and tree leaves that surrounded the body of water looked silvery and otherworldly. Settling on the grass by the Eastern shore, Draco and Harry sat in silence for a long while, comfortable in the night and in each other’s company.

 

            Draco broke the silence, but not with speaking. Instead, he leaned forward, scooped up a few of the pebbles scattered on the shore, and began tossing them, one by one, into the lake. Harry watched him for awhile, then yawned, and leaned over, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder.

 

            “Don’t tell me your tired,” Draco laughed softly, smirking at his friend.

 

            “No.” Harry answered, staring out at the water and the ripples Draco’s pebbles were making. “Just lazy.”

 

            “So you’re using me as a pillow,” Draco smirked, tossing another stone. “You pouf.”

 

            Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t move. “So I’m not a disgustingly macho man. I have no problem with using you as a pillow and meaning nothing beyond ‘you are a comfortable pillow’.” He titled his head a little, looking up at the silver eyes of the other. “Do you?”

 

            Draco smiled, just a little. He didn’t really smile all that much - Harry was one of the very few people who actually saw that smile. “No, I don’t.”

 

            They sat in comfortable, companionable silence, until they heard the sound of footsteps behind them, and both sat up, turning to see who was there.

 

            “Oh, don’t let me interrupt you,” a disturbingly familiar voice said, and a disturbingly familiar figure stood there, hands in pockets, blond silvery hair loose and without the usual molding charms that held it tied back. His pale, pointed face was thrown into sharp relief by the silvery light off the lake, and the smile that graced those perfectly formed lips was not unpleasant.

 

            “The hell-?!” Draco gasped, pushing himself to his feet, automatically grabbing Harry’s arm to pull him to his feet as well. Both boys had their wands out in a heartbeat, pointed at this new intruder, and Draco did not let go of Harry’s arm.

 

            “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, holding up his empty, wandless hands in a disarming pose. “I would never want to hurt either of you. It would be like self-mutilation and blasphemy. For either of you.”

 

            “Who are you, and what do you want?” Harry demanded, emerald eyes narrowing. This could very well be a trap from Voldemort, trying to get to him because Voldemort wouldn’t expect Harry to kill his best friend, after all. But this imposter could  _not_  be Draco. And Harry knew that, and he was perfectly willing to be casting an Unforgivable. If worst came to worst, he knew that Lucius could bribe him out of trouble.

 

            The newcomer bowed, gracefully from the waist, one hand tucked into his stomach, the other at his back. Straightening again, he smiled a little, and said, “My name is Draconius Lucian Malfoy. As for what I want... that is considerably more complicated.”

 

            At the mention of  _his_  name as this individual’s, Draco bristled, glaring at him, wand moving to be a little more accessible for attack. “Why are you masquerading as me?”

 

            “I’m not,” ‘Draconius’ said lightly, then adjusted his robes, and sat, gracefully. “Do feel free to have a seat, this may take awhile.”

 

            “We’ll stand,” Harry said coldly.

 

            “Suit yourself.” Draconius shrugged in a casual, practiced way, then began to speak, thoughtfully. “You two are the most intriguing two I’ve seen in awhile. In a long while, actually. You don’t hate each other.”

 

            “Why would we?” Harry frowned, confused, asking despite himself.

 

            “My question exactly,” Draconius smirked, then sighed, running long, manicured fingers through the silvery grass. “But nonetheless... in any case, you two are interesting. Interesting enough that I decided to pay you a proper visit. You see, I deal with each two differently.”

 

            Draco and Harry both stiffened, their grips on their wands tightening. “Deal with?” Harry repeated. 

 

            “Mm. Sounds so clinical, doesn’t it?” Draconius sighed. “But it’s what keeps me occupied, in my search, you see.”

 

            “Search?” Draco asked warily.

 

            “I keep looking,” Draconius sighed, standing suddenly, making the other two take a wary step back, wands at the ready. “I keep looking, but I can’t find. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this visit a bit short after all, I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I really didn’t explain myself at all. Next time we’ll have a proper tea, a good visit, and I will explain myself.” He brushed off his robes, smoothing the black fabric. As he did so, Harry narrowed his eyes at the fabric. There were some intricate silver designs woven into it... “And I shall be back, so don’t you worry yourselves about that.”

 

            “We’ll be waiting,” Draco said coldly, jaw set.

 

            “Excellent,” Draconius smirked, then inclined his head gracefully. “Do take care of each other.”

 

            And then he was gone.

 

            Harry blinked. “Did he apparate?!”

 

            “Impossible,” Draco murmured, spinning so his back was to Harry’s, looking all around. “Apparation blocks on Hogwarts, we’re still on school property, you can’t Disapparate.” He swallowed. “Invisibility Cloak?”

 

            Harry shook his head, looking around wildly. “We would have seen him pull it on. And he didn’t touch anything, so unless his _clothing_  was a port key...”

 

            “It’s too dangerous to make clothing items into port keys,” Draco reminded him, frowning. “I think.... he’s actually gone.”

 

            Harry turned to look at Draco, emerald eyes meeting silver.

 

            “We need to talk to Snape.”


	12. Chapter 12

Track Change

 

Track Beta

 

Snape looked up sharply from his grading when his multiple dark spell locked door slammed open. In a moment, he was on his feet, wand in hand, expecting Death Eaters, Voldemort, the Ministry, someone coming with death and likely pain.

 

What he was not expecting was Draco Malfoy to race in like there were Hell Hounds on his heels.

 

Well, there were no Hell Hounds, but something was on his heels.

 

Harry Potter.

 

Harry, who dashed in after Draco, then slammed the door behind him, leaning back against it, eyes wide, and breathing very heavily.

 

“What exactly is the meaning of this?” Snape demanded, voice low, and smooth. Anyone who knew the Potions Master well - and Draco Malfoy did - knew that this was the most dangerous his voice could be. This was the voice Snape reserved for detentions for Longbottom, his former classmate James Potter, and those about to face immediate death by potion.

 

“Professor Snape, sir,” Draco panted, bracing himself up on the front of Snape’s desk. “There’s... there’s someone in the school.”

 

Snape closed his eyes, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Malfoy, this is a school. With students. And teachers. And ghosts. Of course there’s someone in the school.”

 

Harry spoke up then. “Snape... sir... there’s another Malfoy.”

 

Snape frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“We were talking,” Draco took up the story. Seeing Snape’s incredulous expression, Draco explained. “We’ve been trying to figure something out for the last couple weeks. So we were talking, and suddenly, there’s... there’s another me. Just standing there, arms crossed, looking at us. Laughing at us.”

 

“Do you think it might be someone with Polyjuice?” Harry panted. “Because that’s all I could think of.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was all you could think of, Potter,” Snape said dryly, then slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “Have a seat boys.

 

“I think we need to talk.”


	13. Chapter 13

Track Change

 

Track Alpha

 

            “Really?” Harry repeated in disbelief. “I guess I always figured it was natural.”

 

            Draco let out a derisive snort. “Hardly. You’re not extremely observant, Potter, to say the least.”

 

            The door to the classroom opened, and Snape stood framed in the doorway. Both boys turned expectantly to look at him, and a single one of his eyebrows rose.

 

            Harry and Draco were sitting on either sides of the same desk, Draco with his crossed arms resting on the desk, Harry with his elbows, chin in hands. They looked strangely comfortable for being bitter rivals on opposite sides of the same war, and... were they wearing each other’s house ties?

 

            “I am  _not_  going to ask,” Snape drawled, making them exchange confused glances.

 

            “Does this mean detention’s over? Sir?” Harry ventured at last.

 

            “Not completely,” Snape crossed to sit himself behind the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. “Have you two discovered anything?”

 

            Harry looked horror stricken. “I thought we were just supposed to be not fighting!”

 

            Snape gave him a cold look. “Use your brain, Potter. Do you not agree that it would be  _helpful_  had you two discovered any reason why someone would be attempting to imitate Mr. Malfoy?”

 

            Draco frowned. “Well, I don’t think it’s for Potter, sir.”

 

            Both other inhabitants of the room looked at him expectantly, so Draco continued.

 

            “I’ve had an interesting conversation with Potter, sir. I can see no way, from what I have learned of him, that someone would be attempting to reach him via myself. We are vastly different in many respects - including heritage and upbringing - but also vastly similar in other areas, and so not prime candidates in either case. Yes, I would agree that we are both honourary figureheads of opposing forces, but I would not say that we would be good targets to take each other out.” Draco shrugged lazily.

 

            “Why not?” Snape frowned. “You don’t think that someone may be using this as a way to make Potter hate yourself more completely so that he’ll attempt to kill you? Or the other way around, perhaps?”

 

            “I don’t think the other way around works,” Harry pointed out thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen a copy of me wandering about the school. I don’t think anyone has, or they would have noticed. And I wouldn’t kill Malfoy. Sir.”

 

            Snape leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled. “Is that so.”

 

            Harry nodded. “I don’t want to kill anyone. And some imposter making Malfoy seem... different... towards me isn’t going to make me change that. Sir.”

 

            Snape nodded thoughtfully, then looked at the two of them carefully. “That means we have a quandary.”

 

            The two boys looked at each other, then back at the Potions Master.

 

            “I think we need to talk.”


	14. Chapter 14

Track Change

 

Track Gamma

 

            “And he gave no explanation as to why he was there?”

 

            Draco and Harry both shook their heads, both watching the Potions Master carefully.

 

            Snape folded his hands on his desktop, and watched the two boys carefully. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. The two most powerful students in the school, and they were in the same house and best friends, besides. And they were both under his immediate protection from the Dark Lord, who would like nothing more than to kill the only heir of his biggest betrayer, and utterly destroy the boy who had destroyed  _him_  time and time again. And now someone was parading about, disguised as Draco himself, even claiming to be him. And he was searching for something.

 

            Snape sighed, and closed his eyes.

 

            “I think we need to talk.”


	15. Chapter 15

Track Change

 

Now Boarding All Tracks

 

            Snape stood, hands draped behind his back.

 

            “This is a very serious situation. An imposter disguised as Draco Malfoy is certainly something for concern. We have no idea what this individual’s intentions are, what they hope to gain, or how they have managed this deceit. The latter is secondary right now. Our primary concern is what this person’s intentions are.

 

            “I believe it’s safe to say at this point, that this individual is targeting you two exclusively. No one else has seen them, no one else has heard them. For that reason, I demand now that no one else is informed of this development. You will not tell the Headmaster, you will not tell your friends, you will not relay this information to anyone who would leak it to serious outside forces. Do you understand?”

 

            Two young heads nodded reluctantly, and Snape nodded to himself. “I want you to find out what they want. Use whatever means necessary. I will provide any assistance I can, as well as running cover for you. Report any findings back to myself immediately. And I do not feel I should have to do this, but I will - I must stress the vital importance of being careful. Do not let anyone discover what you are doing. Do not let this individual hurt either of you, or anyone else.”

 

            He turned, looking for a moment at the potions cabinet / blackboard / door / window / mirror / pensieve / painting / chair / pair of teens / desks / wall / lamp / torch / candle / plaque / parchment / crack in the wall / mask / fire / classroom / office / dragon / telephone / bed / rug / chandelier.

 

            “Be careful,” he said softly. “Whatever you do, be careful.

 

            “Dismissed.”


	16. Chapter 16

Track Change

 

Track Alpha

 

            “Potter!”

 

            Draco resisted the urge to yell at the Gryffindor. At that particular moment, he could have berated him for his messy hair, for his glasses, for that stupid scar, even for the way his stupid tie and his eyes in combination made him look like a Christmas tree. He was _not_  in a good mood, and Potter was a very convenient target. Instead, he bit down the insults, and concentrated on what he had come to the library to talk to him about. “Potter, the match is on Wednesday, and I don’t particularly...”

 

            “Lucian,” Harry interrupted, looking at him without a single emotion on his face.

 

            Draco growled to himself, and snapped back, “James.” While he understood where Harry was going with this stupid ‘passwords so I know it’s actually you’ thing, honestly, repeating each others middle names? How typically Gryffindor.

 

            Harry relaxed visibly, which was stupid, Draco thought. After all, he could have been the imposter who’d watched them meet before and realized what they were doing. “Well, then, Malfoy. What did you want?”

 

            Draco let out a sigh of disgust, and settled down in the chair across from Harry, lowering his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Look, Potter. The match. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Wednesday. I do  _not_  want to see You Know Who there!”

 

            Harry blinked, then frowned thoughtfully. “You do know that You Know Who is typically Lord Voldemort, right?”

 

            Draco closed his eyes, and reached up to press a single finger tip against the bridge of his nose. “I am aware of that, Potter. That is  _not_  the point. The  _point_  is that I do not want to see  _Him_  there on Wednesday. Seeing him in the crowd would disconcert me considerably and rather damage my flying, I might imagine.”

 

            “There’s too many people there,” Harry pointed out, almost academically. “He’s never shown up when there was any more than just us there, or just one of us. And we haven’t seen him in about a week anyway. Maybe he’s stopped coming?”

 

            “You  _cannot_  actually believe that,” Draco snorted derisively. “For the love of Salazar, Potter. He’s trying to make our lives miserable.”

 

            Harry sighed, leaning back in his own chair. “I don’t think that’s his purpose.”

 

            Two weeks ago, when the boys had been working in the Room of Requirement with dozens of books spread out between them ((Their goal at the time had been to determine how the Draco imposter managed to appear and disappear with no effort.)) he had appeared again, just casually, with no warning. He had appeared on the couch they’d both been sitting on, Harry on the far right, Draco on the far left, and there he suddenly was, right in the middle. Neither of them had noticed him for a long time, until Harry had gone reaching for a book he’d had a moment before, and when the imposter handed it to him, he’d deliberately dragged his long fingers over the back of Harry’s hand. Harry had glanced up, startled, and had stared for about thirty seconds before letting out a horrified yelp of realization and nearly tumbling off the couch.

 

            After the two of them had managed to get as far away from the couch as the room would allow, they had stood side by side, breathing heavily, staring at the imposter. He had simply smiled at them, then asked them how their research was coming.

 

            That led to a mostly one sided conversation on his part. They had found out that he was there, following them, for some very significant purpose that involved the both of them, though he had not mentioned what that purpose was. He  _had_  laughed almost hysterically when Harry asked him if it was for Voldemort. They’d also found out that he didn’t Apparate and Disapparate. ((Which really, they would have known anyway, had they read  _Hogwarts: A History_.)) Instead, he claimed to not really ever  _move_ , so much as he just went somewhere else. 

 

            They had stared at him blankly for some time after that comment, so he’d grinned, and explained further. “You see,” he’d said, politely and calmly. “The principle of Apparation is this. You take yourself from where you were, and reposition yourself somewhere else. Correct? It’s like the world is a giant model for an even bigger person, who picks you up, and just moves you somewhere else, like you were a doll. Do you understand? What I do is similar, only instead of picking  _myself_  up and moving  _me_ , I pick up and move everything  _else_.

 

            “I can move from place to place because I don’t Apparate, I just move the places. I never go anywhere.”

 

            The explanation was confusing, but it had made Harry think. “Like... with a time turner.”

 

            The imposter Draco’s eyes had shot straight to his face at that, mouth opening slightly. For the first time, he had looked surprised, less than perfectly collected. “Exactly like a time turner. How did you...” then had he paused, and smiled, shaking his head. “Of course. I forgot where I was. Brilliant, Potter. That was very clever.” He had turned to Draco, smirking. “Aren’t you proud of him?”

 

            So in any case, now they had a clue as to what was going on. Harry had suggested that perhaps, this alternate Draco was not really an imposter at all, but Draco from the future? Draco had negated that one instantly, declaring that this Draco was no older than Draco was right now, and besides, how was  _he_  to get access to a Time Turner? There was no way the Ministry was going to authorize the son of a known Death Eater to get one.

 

            But at least they had  _some_  kind of idea, now.

 

            “I very much doubt he’ll show up on Wednesday,” Harry said calmly. “But if my theory is correct... we could go look for  _him_.”

 

            Draco stared at him. “What?”

 

            “Look, what he said about time turners got me thinking.” Harry pushed the piece of parchment he’d been writing on over to Draco. “See, with what he said, and what I read in this book here...” he pushed the book over too. “I think he’s moving to different times _and_  places at the same time. Possibly distinctly different times. Remember when I said it was like a time turner, and he was completely confused, then he said ‘I forgot where I was’? I think it’s because he’s used to seeing me at a different time. Possibly before third year.”

 

            “Why third year?” Draco asked, glancing up from the parchment.

 

            “Third year is when I found out about time turners.” Harry lifted his chin at the parchment. “What do you think?”

 

            “Wait... wouldn’t you  _remember_  him if he showed up before first year?” Draco asked.

 

            “That’s where the theory of going to different  _places_  got me. Like maybe... if there’s two of you - due to time paradox, or whatever - maybe there’s two mes. What do you think of that, though?” He motioned again to the parchment.

 

            “From what I can make out of your atrocious handwriting...” Draco frowned, considering, then said, “I think it would work better to make some kind of potion, rather than a charm.”

 

            “I thought of that too, but from what little information I could gather, it looks like any potion used with those components would make any changes permanent, and frankly, I don’t think I want to be popping all over the planet permanently, like he does.”

 

            Draco looked up, smirking. “Wouldn’t even be handy to take out the Dark Lord once and for all?”

 

            Harry paused, surprised. “Well, yes, it would.... but what would I do with that skill  _after_  that?”

 

            “You’d either be the world’s greatest prankster, or the world’s most illicit voyeur,” Draco said lightly. “But look, here...” he tapped the parchment. “I would have said that this was the best mix right away, except something makes me think there’s a better ingredient. It would be just as potent - perhaps  _more_  so, but it would be temporary instead of permanent.”

 

            “Well, I thought so too, but I couldn’t think of what it would be.”

 

            “Remember how you mentioned polyjuice potion?” Draco asked, a slight smirk on his face. “You were so convinced that this imposter was a polyjuice creation, correct? Well, I would have  _known_  if anyone was cutting my hair without permission, but that’s not the point. The fact is that you mentioned it - and now it makes me think. Could we not replace the heather with part of the person we’re trying to find?”

 

            Harry blinked at him, confused.

 

            Draco sighed, then snatched Harry’s quill off the table, dipped it in the ink, shook it lightly, then flipped the parchment over and began to scratch out notes on the back side, in his perfectly neat handwriting. “The primary use of heather when in this potion is to conjure, correct? Although it’s properties for warding off violent crimes can also be useful...” he paused. “Have you considered carrying a sprig of heather around with you? White would be best. In any case, while heather is the logical choice, it makes me wonder if it might not be wise to resist its longevity - the heather would be what would make the potion permanent, you realize - by using say, a lock of his hair. Or,” he sighed, “A lock of my hair would probably do just as well. That way, the potion will allow us to directly seek out  _him_ , instead of just wherever it is he goes.”

 

            Harry could only gape at him. “Merlin, Malfoy... you’re brilliant.”

 

            “Glad you finally noticed,” Draco preened, then hesitated, and admitted, “I wouldn’t have been able to think of it had you not mentioned Polyjuice.”

 

            “Wow.” Harry nodded, incredibly impressed. “I suppose you want to go tell your head of house, now?”

 

            Draco paused, frowning. “No.”

 

            Harry blinked. “What? But Snape said...”

 

            “I don’t care what Snape said.” Draco looked up now, silver eyes serious. “I think... we should brew the potion first. Most of the ingredients we can get no problem.” He frowned at the page, shaking his head. “I’ll do my best to get a time turner, but that one ingredient will be a challenge. As it is though, most of these ingredients are ones we use in NEWTs potions anyway, shouldn’t be too hard to get our hands on them. I’ll borrow from Snape if we must, but I think we should try and brew the potion before we present the idea to him.”

 

            Harry sat back, head tilted to the side, watching Draco thoughtfully.

 

            Draco noticed this, and glanced back and forth before frowning. “What?” 

 

            Harry smiled slightly, still looking surprised. “I’m suddenly seeing you in a whole new light. You are a different person than I thought you were. You’re even willing to defy your head of house and break a few rules.” Harry smiled. “I’m impressed.” 

 

            “Took you long enough,” Draco smirked. “My only concern is about where to brew the potion. I have my own room, being Head Boy, but I don’t trust my house. The others - or Professor Snape - could easily find a way in. We need somewhere where people _won’t_  think to look.”

 

            Harry paused, considering, then his face broke into a grin. “Malfoy, I have  _the_  best place to brew illegal potions.”


	17. Chapter 17

Track Alpha

 

            “Here we are.”

 

            “Excellent,” Draco said distractedly, brows furrowed as he concentrated on slicing the blackwort root as neatly as he could. “Just put it... anywhere. Hopefully somewhere I won’t trip over it.”

 

            Harry nodded, and pushed the eyebright aside so he could set down the basket of dried fly-agaric mushrooms. “Did you notice this thing is almost entirely plant based?”

 

            “It’s an old potion,” Draco pointed out, knife steadily working. “Well, it was, until we meddled with it.” He gestured with the knife to the ancient text beside Harry. It’s cover was nearly decayed and somewhat moldy, and from its spine hung a chain that Harry had severed last night from the rest of the chain that still hung from its shelf in the Restricted Zone. Harry had snuck into the library the night before with the Invisibility cloak to get it. “Would you open to the potion recipe, please? I want to make sure I cut this right.”

 

            “Wow,” Harry remarked idly, smiling as he flipped through the brittle pages. They were the kind of ancient pages some insane wizard had probably infused with poison, so Harry was very careful with them. “You said please.”

 

            “Yes, well...” Draco wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, his hair hanging loose and all over the place. When he worked very hard on potions, he tended to loose himself to the process, almost forgetting about looking good at the same time. “I figured we  _are_  cloistered in the oddest of places to brew an illegal potion, so I figured I might as well be civil to you while I’m at it. Unless you’d rather I not?”

 

            “No, that’s quite alright. It’s nice, really.” Harry found the page finally, and propped it up on the stand in front of Draco. “There you are.”

 

            “Are you doing it again?” A simpering, depressed voice said, and both boys looked up to see a morose looking ghost floating just outside one of the cubicles. “Oh, he’s new.”

 

            “Moaning Myrtle, this is Draco Malfoy.” Harry waved a hand at the ghost. “Malfoy, Myrtle.”

 

            Draco looked dubiously at Harry. “Thought you said this bathroom was abandoned.”

 

            “Well, it is... except for Myrtle. She’s helped me out a few times,” Harry said quickly, trying to avoid a blow up on Myrtle’s part. Draco noted with interest that he had intentionally not said ‘we’, despite the fact that Draco knew the Weasel and Mudblood had been working in here with Harry before. Come to think of it, did Harry even hang out with those two anymore? He wondered.

 

            “Oh. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Myrtle,” Draco gave a proper smile, and an incline of the head in substitute for a bow. “I hope you don’t mind our intrusion on your home?”

 

            “Oh!” Myrtle’s ghostly cheeks flushed silver. “Harry, I like your friend. Feel free to come around anytime you’d like, both of you!” She looked pleased. “I certainly don’t mind.”

 

            “Thanks, Myrtle,” Harry said, giving Draco a wry grin. Trust the Slytherin to charm the depressed ghost. “You were very charming there, Malfoy.”

 

            “Draco.”

 

            “Hmm?” Harry frowned, then coughed a few times when Draco poured the roots into the potion, making it steam profusely.

 

            “Draco.” Draco waved aside some of the steam, then looked at Harry perfectly seriously. “We’re sitting on the floor of a girl’s bathroom brewing an illegal potion. I am perfectly aware that the last time you did this, you were with your Gryffindor friends. If this doesn’t merit calling each other by our first names, then I don’t know what does. Harry.”

 

            Harry was silent for a moment, then smiled slightly. “All right. Draco. I can do that.”

 

            Draco smirked, then asked, “What time is it?”

 

            “That was random,” Harry blinked.

 

            “No, it isn’t. What time is it?”

 

            Harry gave him an odd look, then pulled his sleeve back to check the time on his watch. “Err... 12:32.”

 

            “Ten thousand thundering typhoons,” Draco muttered, then stood quickly. “Match starts in less than half an hour.”

 

            Harry stared at him for a moment, then a sudden horrified realization crossed his face, and he bolted to his feet. “Shit! They’ll kill us!”

 

            “Exactly. Mytle!” Draco called, and the ghost immediately zipped through the door of her cubicle to look at him. “Watch the potion for us, and make sure no one meddles?”

 

            “Of course!” Myrtle chirped, sounding surprisingly happy, then Draco and Harry were racing out of the third floor girls bathroom and down the hall.

 

            “It’s a good thing we wore our uniforms under our robes,” Harry panted, struggling his robes off as he ran, exposing his red, gold, tan and leather uniform underneath. “Otherwise, we’d  _never_  be able to make it. As it is, Ron’s going to kill me for being late.”

 

            “You? I actually  _am_  team captain,” Draco shot back, tugging his own robes off. “Peh. Running is for the peasants. We need to finish this potion fast, so I can just appear somewhere else, without Apparating.”

 

            “Would be handy, wouldn’t it?” Harry shot back, paused for only a moment, then decided to forgo the more traditional route down the stairs. Instead, he hopped up onto the banister, sitting backwards on it.

 

            “Merlin, what  _are_  you doing, Harry?” Draco demanded, looking at him like he’d grown an extra head.

 

            “Taking a short cut,” Harry grinned, then let go, and slid down the staircase in only a moment.

 

            Draco stared at him for a second, then rolled his eyes, and clambered up onto the railing himself. “Forgive me father, for ruining the Malfoy image,” Draco muttered, then let go, screaming ((literally)) down the railing. He nearly would have flown off the end, except that Harry caught him, and pulled him off the railing, dragging him by the arm as they started running again.

 

            “Have you never done that before?” Harry laughed, still holding onto Draco’s forearm as they raced through the entrance foyer, dashing out the great oak entrance doors. Draco was infinitely grateful that no one had been around at the time to see  _that_ , because then his image would have been completely down the drain.

 

            “No,” Draco said breathlessly, then tugged on his arm a little. “Want everyone to see you holding my hand?”

 

            “Wha-? Oh!” Harry hastily dropped Draco’s arm, ears turning red again. “Sorry.”

 

            At last, they were on the edge of the Quidditch field, and they dashed inside the passage that, if you turned right, led to Slytherin changing rooms, and if you turned left, led to the Gryffindor changing rooms. Harry was about to dash left without waiting, but was pulled up short when Draco grabbed his arm, halting him. Smirking mischievously, Draco looked into Harry’s eyes, and purred, “Good luck, Harry.”

 

            Harry blinked, bewildered, and was left standing there as a laughing Draco Malfoy darted down the right hand passage.

 

            Then he realized just where they were and what time it was, and swore violently. “You’ll regret that, Draco!” He hollered down the passage, then grumbling at Slytherins and their dirty tactics to confuse the hell out of you and therefore distract you from your game, Harry ran off to the left.


	18. Chapter 18

Track Alpha

 

            Harry stared in disbelief at the Slytherin seeker.

 

            Draco Malfoy was holding aloft the struggling Snitch, a delightfully smug grin on his face. Pushing his way through the massed Gryffindor and Slytherin teams, he reached forward, and grabbed Harry’s hand, forcing it open, then dropping the Snitch into it and curling Harry’s fingers around it.

 

            “Little gift for you,” he smirked, utterly devious, then waved, and disappeared with the rest of his celebrating team mates.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Track Change

 

Track Beta

 

            Harry stared in disbelief at the Slytherin seeker.

 

            Draco Malfoy was holding aloft the struggling Snitch, a delightfully smug grin on his face. Pushing his way through the massed Gryffindor and Slytherin teams, he reached forward, and grabbed Harry’s hand, forcing it open, then dropping the Snitch into it and curling Harry’s fingers around it.

 

            “Little gift for you,” he smirked, utterly devious, then waved, and disappeared with the rest of his celebrating team mates.


	20. Chapter 20

Track Change

 

Track Gamma

 

            That evening, there was much celebration, rejoicing, Firewiskey, and hoisting of their star Seeker onto shoulders in the Slytherin common room, and Harry and Draco both happily bathed in the glory.

 

            It was good to be a Slytherin today.


	21. Chapter 21

> Track Change
> 
>  
> 
> Track Beta
> 
>  
> 
>             Draco was waiting in the classroom, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. Harry was taking  _forever_.
> 
>  
> 
>             At last, the door opened, and Harry stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
> 
>  
> 
>             “What  _took_  you so long?” Draco demanded, surprised with himself about how angry he felt. Like... like he’d thought Harry was going to stand him up or something.
> 
>  
> 
>             “I had a slight problem.” Harry said flatly, then crossed the room to pause beside Draco, then let out a sigh of disgust, and dug his wand out of his robes. Aiming it at one of the tables, he muttered an incantation, and a moment later, Harry dropped himself heavily into a crude but very comfortable couch. “I think I know what this alternate Malfoy wants from us.”
> 
>  
> 
>             “You do?!” Draco nearly leapt out of his seat, settling instead for hurrying over to sit beside Harry, watching him anxiously. “Is that why you’re late? You saw him again?”
> 
>  
> 
>             Harry nodded, closing his eyes and sinking back into the couch cushions. “I had to throw suspicion off - not that I think anyone else would have noticed I was gone, but Neville’s worried about me, so he’s been watching me constantly. So I went to bed for a little while, fully intent on sneaking out with my Cloak as soon as everyone was asleep. But wouldn’t it figure - guess who was waiting for me?”
> 
>  
> 
>             “He was in your bed again?” Draco repeated in disbelief.
> 
>  
> 
>             “Yep,” Harry nodded with mock cheerfulness, then sneered. “He said he had to talk to me. Then you know  _what_  he wanted to talk about?”
> 
>  
> 
>             Draco shook his head.
> 
>  
> 
>             “You.”
> 
>  
> 
>             The blond gaped at him. “He wanted to talk about  _me_? Not that I don’t understand why someone would want to talk about me, I mean, this  _is_  me, but...”
> 
>  
> 
>             “Honestly...” Harry groaned. “Shut it. Not now.”
> 
>  
> 
>             Draco admitted it - that reaction actually surprised him. Potter wasn’t that short tempered with him lately, usually he kept it all in. He had to admit he was very curious now as to why he’d be snapping. “What happened, Potter?”
> 
>  
> 
>             Harry groaned again, closing his eyes, leaning back and absolutely sinking into the cushions. Draco watched him carefully, waiting for some hint of what had happened to flash on Harry’s extremely expressive face, until finally he sighed himself, and snuggled deeper into the couch himself. He was surprised, actually, how well Harry had transfigured the table - this was extremely comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that despite himself, Draco’s eyes slid shut, and he was almost asleep when Harry suddenly spoke up.
> 
>  
> 
>             “He says he’ll leave us alone, but only on one condition.”
> 
>  
> 
>             Blinking rapidly, Draco lifted his head from where it had sunk into the cushions, and found Harry watching him, looking surprised. “What condition?” he asked, a little sleepily.
> 
>  
> 
>             Harry frowned, looking away. “I have to kiss you.”
> 
>  
> 
>             “ _What_?!”
> 
>  
> 
>             All traces of fatigue were gone now as Draco sat bolt upright, horrified.
> 
>  
> 
>             Harry’s ears were incredibly red, as was the rest of him. “Or you have to kiss me, he said it didn’t matter which way it went so long as one of us kissed the other.”
> 
>  
> 
>             There was silence for a moment, then Draco exploded. “What the  _fuck_  is he talking about?! What the hell’s going on? I am  _not_ going to kiss you, nor allow  _you_  to kiss  _me_ , for that matter, because some freak who looks like me tried to make us! No! Not a bloody chance! Just who does he think he  _is_ , anyways?!”
> 
>  
> 
>             “I never said we were  _going to_ ,” Harry yelped, looking horrified enough himself, thank you very much! “I just said that that’s what _he_  wants! He said so!”
> 
>  
> 
>             Draco spun to face Harry, reaching forward to pin his shoulders firmly to the back of the couch. “Listen to me, Potter. It’s not going to happen, do you understand?!”
> 
>  
> 
>             Harry’s eyes just got very wide, and he stammered, “Ah... M.... Malfoy?”
> 
>  
> 
>             “No, Potter, listen. Do you  _understand_?” Draco stressed, shaking the other a little. “Do you?”
> 
>  
> 
>             “Malfoy...” Harry squeaked, then finally found his voice enough to yelp, “Watch  _out_!”
> 
>  
> 
>             “Wha-?” Draco started, about to turn to see what it was that Harry was apparently warning him about. Until he felt a hand settle between his shoulder blades, and push him forward with no effort.
> 
>  
> 
>             Letting out a muffled cry, Draco was forced forward onto Harry, sprawling awkwardly into him, his collarbone making solid contact with Harry’s forehead, making both out them let out little cries of startled pain. Furious, and wanting to see just who it was that he was about to hex into oblivion, Draco tried to pull back from the Gryffindor, but the hand on his back only increased its pressure, so that he was effectively smothering Harry, who was letting out little alarmed noises muffled by Draco’s jumper.
> 
>  
> 
>             “Let me  _up_!” Draco yelled, twisting and trying to get away. “You little bastard, my father will have you  _killed_  for this!”
> 
>  
> 
>             “Doubtful,” that same annoyingly familiar voice said, and Draco froze. “Comfortable?”
> 
>  
> 
>             “No!” Draco bellowed.
> 
>  
> 
>             “Shame,” the other him said casually, and didn’t release his hold.
> 
>  
> 
>             Draco was growing rather alarmed - but not by the other’s attack. Instead, he was much more concerned for Harry, who had grabbed at his arms when he was first shoved forward, had squeezed considerably tighter when Draco had been thrown into his face, and now that hold was growing weaker. For that matter... Harry wasn’t struggling anymore.
> 
>  
> 
>             “Let me up!” Draco screamed, pushing back frantically. “Harry can’t  _breath_!”
> 
>  
> 
>             Next thing Draco knew, the hand on his back had seized his jumper and ripped him away from the black haired boy, throwing him back to where he’d been sitting before this whole thing began. His own limbs shaking with what felt like adrenaline, Draco looked with alarm at the Gryffindor, who was now hacking and coughing and gasping for breath, with a very concerned alternate Draco Malfoy practically holding him, rubbing concerned circles on his back.
> 
>  
> 
>             “I’m sorry,” that alternate Draco was whispering, almost frantically. Harry was wheezing all over his expensive black dress robes - the ones with the graceful white lace cuffs and collar and the silver runes sewn into the fabric - but he didn’t even seem to notice. “Merlin, I am  _so sorry_...”
> 
>  
> 
>             By now Harry seemed to be regaining his breath, and was trying to back away from the other Malfoy. And wasn’t having much success. Draco watched the Gryffindor’s nervous movement for a moment, then sighed.
> 
>  
> 
>             He didn’t want to do this. But as much as he despised the idiot Gryffindor, he’d rather be the one to rescue him than to let him fall victim to this insane copy’s “good intentions” again.
> 
>  
> 
>             So Draco reached across the couch, grabbed Harry’s shoulder ((He seemed to be doing this a lot lately. This concerned him.)) and tugged, half pulling Harry away from the psycho copy of him, half guiding the other, as Harry seemed perfectly content to near him in favour of avoiding the other him. Pulling the Gryffindor completely out of arms range of the copy of him, Draco was alarmed to discover - a bit belatedly - that this meant Harry was nearly in his lap.
> 
>  
> 
>             Something that had apparently not occurred to Harry, nor seemed to really bother him at that moment, as he leaned back _against Draco_ , shaking slightly as he settled against his shoulder, so that Draco’s arm was stuck behind the other.
> 
>  
> 
>             Merlin, Draco thought.
> 
>  
> 
>             I’ve got my arm around Potter.
> 
>  
> 
>             What a very strange turn of events.


	22. Chapter 22

Track Change

 

Track Alpha

 

            “How does it look?” Harry asked anxiously, looking up from his stirring.

 

            Draco paused in the doorway, arms crossed, examining the scene thoughtfully.

 

            After their potions class that morning, Harry had slipped Draco a note that basically said that his afternoon’s classes had been cancelled ((Poor Professor Pufftien, the new Defense instructor, had had another nervous breakdown after a seventh year Ravenclaw had let loose their Patronus, which happened to be a  _Dementor_. The Patronus hadn’t had the same effect as the real thing, but it had still been realistic and ironic enough that Pufftien had had another of his famous panic fits.)) so he was heading to the bathroom to work on the potion. Draco was welcome to join him whenever his classes let out.

 

            So, when his classes finished, Draco promptly headed to the third floor girl’s bathroom, only to open the door and find this.

 

            Harry had removed his jumper, rolled up his sleeves, undid the top three buttons of his dress shirt, then let his tie hang loose and lazily around his neck. The potion was boiling and as a result steaming up the bathroom well, so Harry had been sweating and now his black hair was stuck in little tendrils to his forehead. He sat, legs askance, on the floor, a cutting board between his knees so he could carefully hack the daisy roots into tiny pieces. His cheeks were flushed, and his emerald eyes were glittering more than usual.

 

            Draco took this all in, swallowed, and had to fight the flush trying to struggle its way over his face.

 

            “Incredibly good,” he said, and he wasn’t sure if he was passing judgement on his potions partner or their project.

 

            “Good,” Harry sighed with obvious relief. “I was afraid I’d screw something up. What do we need to add next?”

 

            Draco crossed the room to drop his book bag beside Harry’s, then settled down on the opposite side of the cauldron. He watched Harry work on the roots for a long moment, contemplating this new and sudden realization of what Potter actually really looked like, until Harry looked up at him expectantly, and he ripped his eyes away before Harry would catch on to the staring. “Lacewings,” he said calmly, forcing himself to remain that way.

 

            “Good thing we didn’t have to steal them from Snape’s personal stores this time,” Harry muttered, mostly to himself, but Draco knew he referred to the Polyjuice potion he’d made in this bathroom five years before.

 

            They worked in silence for some time, each comfortable with the other enough that they didn’t feel like they had to fill the silence with words. Granted, Draco was sneaking glances as an apparently oblivious Harry, but that was only for interest’s sake. After about an hour, and as it neared time for dinner, Draco stretched, then jumped when his stretching arm brushed against something that did not feel like a wall or bathroom stall.

 

            Spinning, Draco was alarmed to find his alternate self sitting there, almost right behind him!

 

            Draco cleared his throat, and when Harry looked up to see what he wanted, the Boy Who Lived saw him too, eyes widening.

 

            For several long minutes, neither of them spoke, just warily watching the intruder. He didn’t seem to have noticed that they were even aware of his presence, and instead sat there, head titled back, watching the ceiling with a perplexed expression. After about ten minutes, he shifted his position, and happened to glance at the two of them. His expression flitted to almost fear when he spotted the two of them staring at him, then quickly smoothed it into cold indifference. “Good afternoon,” he said smoothly.

 

            “Good afternoon,” Draco sneered. “What do you want this time?”

 

            Alternate Draco frowned, considering that. “A quiet presence of the Boy Who Lived, I suppose.” He sighed, noticing their perplexed faces, and directed the topic away. “What are you brewing? And why in the girl’s bathroom?”

 

            “Polyjuice potion,” Draco blurted out before Harry could respond. Well, it’s the last potion that had been made in the room, in any case. So it was close.

 

            “Yes,” Harry said smoothly, as though he’d been expecting Draco to say that. “We want to see what happens if you don’t know which is which.”

 

            “Ah...” Alternate Draco nodded slowly. “So you intend to transform into the other, so as to see what my reaction would be? Interesting. Of course, it will also give you both the opportunity to see the other’s life... it may be enlightening.”

 

            “Enlightening, yes,” Draco said with a mental leer. He  _was_  curious to see what being Harry would be like. Both in public and in private. Had Quidditch developed Harry’s muscles the way it had to him?

 

            Bad Draco! Draco thought fiercely, trying to scrub that image from his brain. No thinking about what Potter looks like under those clothes!

 

            Although...

 

            No!

 

            Bad Draco!

 

            “Hmm.” Alternate Draco nodded thoughtfully, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. “I do like the way you work together, I must admit. I am impressed.”

 

            “Well, you know,” Draco sneered, “I  _am_  the potions genius, and Harry here provides the bodily presence to chop up things that are far too dangerous for my own delicate fingers. So really, it’s a fine balance we have set up here, but it works.”

 

            Alternate Draco dropped his eyes from the ceiling to gape at Draco. “Amazing.”

 

            Draco spared a glance at Harry, who looked as surprised as he did. “Well, it  _is_  a good system, but I don’t know about amazing...”

 

            “No, no,” Alternate Draco held up his hands, stopping that train of thought. “I meant.... you called him ‘Harry’, not ‘Potter’.”

 

            “Oh, that.” Draco waved a hand lazily in the air. “It’s been like that for  _ages_ , you really ought to keep up with the times.”

 

            The other looked inordinately proud of them. “I am so glad. This is excellent.”

 

            Both Harry and Draco shrugged.

 

            “Why is it excellent?” Harry ventured, cocking his head to one side.

 

            “Well...” Alternate Draco considered that. “Because it’s the way things should be.” He stood suddenly, smoothing his black, silver embroidered robes. “You two are doing so much better than many others. I’m very pleased, but I must go...”

 

            “Wait!” Harry stood suddenly, and Draco, feeling rather ridiculous being the only one sitting, stood as well. “Why do you keep running off and never explaining yourself properly?! It’s like you’re in some lousy novel and the author can’t be bothered to attempt to write your character for more than a few paragraphs!”

 

            Alternate Draco paused, considering, and Draco arched a brow, giving Harry a look that clearly said ‘Character in a novel?’

 

            “Well, I suppose that is true,” he sat down, slowly. “Do you always come up with analogies like that?”

 

            Harry flushed, slowly sitting back down. “No. Usually ‘mione does that.”

 

            Draco remained standing, watching these two intriguing individuals. Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Golden Boy, Gryffindor Extraordinare, Closet Slytherin, Seeker. And another copy of himself, only a slightly off-balanced version of himself. He was beginning to suspect that this copy of him was himself if he had gone completely and utterly off his rocker.

 

            “Well.” Alternate Draco considered this. “I can’t explain everything. It’s too early for most of it, and some of it... I never tell. But... in the meantime, I suppose I can divulge a few more details than I have. Do sit down, Draco. It’ll be more comfortable.”

 

            Draco narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, then went to lower himself to the bathroom floor, only to discover that he was instead sitting on a squishy lavender coloured pouffe, almost exactly like the ones in Trelawny’s classroom in the tower. A quick glance at Harry confirmed that the Gryffindor was also sitting on one, and the Alternate Draco had settled himself onto a deep royal purple version of the same.

 

            “Well. As I have told you before, I have a somewhat grand purpose in being here, and it involves both of you. I don’t think anyone else knows about it, other than your potions professor, Severus Snape. And even then, only really because you told him.” He frowned for a moment, thinking. “In any case, I  _can_  promise you that I am not here on any Dark Lord’s business, which I’m fairly sure will please both of you. Though I will admit that where I’m from... the Dark Lord issue is... slightly different.”

 

            “Where  _are_  you from?” Harry asked, tugging his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

 

            “Hmm. Good question. I’m from... here, I suppose, and yet not. I attend Hogwarts, I live in Malfoy Manor, I am a Slytherin. But things are not exactly like they are, which I suppose is why I am not exactly like you,” he motioned to Draco. “If I had been, I wouldn’t be here, after all.”

 

            “So... you really  _are_  Draco?” Harry asked, warily.

 

            “You  _are_  me?” Draco added.

 

            The Alternate Draco frowned. “Yes and no. Yes, I am Draconius Lucian Malfoy, and nearly everything about your existence is the same as mine. I suppose I have the same blood as you, so yes, I am you. But no, I’m not you. I was raised... somewhat differently. I went to a different Hogwarts, where your beloved fool Dumbledore was not headmaster.” He looked wistful for a moment, then shook his head, looking back at them. “I made a foolish decision when I was fourteen. A decision you did not make.”

 

            Harry and Draco shared a glance. “What foolish decision?”

 

            Alternate Draco didn’t answer them, except to carefully unbutton the cuff of his left sleeve, then roll the sleeve up to his elbow.

 

            Dark and ugly in the middle of his forearm, was a skull with a snake weaving dangerously from its head like a tongue.

 

            The Dark Mark.

 

            “You’re a Deatheater?!” Harry gasped, moving to stand up.

 

            “Unfortunately,” Alternate Draco murmured. “I’d like to say that I, like Severus Snape, am a spy for the side of light, but I’m afraid that’s not the case. I am merely another masked and cloaked member of that inner circle, following in my father’s footsteps.” He traced the edge of the tattoo aimlessly, then sighed and tugged the sleeve down. “I suppose you could say that my business with you is... redemption.”

 

            “Redemption?”

 

            He sighed, smiling softly, sadly. “I’m trying to redeem my own black soul.”

 

            “How?” Draco asked softly, barely daring to breath. How did his other self want to redeem himself?

 

            “I can’t tell you that yet,” he said, almost mournfully. “It’s too soon.”

 

            “Why?” Harry asked, drawing both blonds attention to himself. “Why can’t you tell us? Why is it too soon?”

 

            “You wouldn’t be able to handle it yet,” he smiled softly, but stood, robes swirling around him as he walked closer to the two of them. “But I promise you, when the time is right, I  _will_  tell you. I swear it, on my mother’s grave.”

 

            Draco’s eyes widened. “Mother’s - ?”

 

            Alternate Draco nodded once, then bent, and before Draco could back away, pressed his lips lightly to the crown of Draco’s head. Then taking two more steps, he bent and did the same to Harry, who gaped at him in confusion. “I hope that helped,” he said softly, folding his hands in front of him. “Even if just a little. I will see you both soon.”

 

            And then he was gone.

 

            For a very long while, perhaps even as long as half an hour, they sat in silence on those ridiculous pouffes, until Harry finally spoke up. “Do you think we can believe him? That it has nothing to do with Voldemort?”

 

            “He said it didn’t,” Draco pointed out, softly.

 

            “But he’s a  _Deatheater_...” Harry paused.

 

            “Look,” Draco said quietly, drawing the emerald eyes back to his face. “If he’s really me, and at this point I think I’m ready to accept that he is.... I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

 

            Harry nodded slowly, then reached across the narrow gap between their two pouffes, touching Draco’s forearm lightly. As though he just needed some kind of human contact, and wasn’t even concerned that this was his rival’s arm he was barely touching. “What do you suppose he meant, when he said the Dark Lord situation was... different?”

 

            Draco could only shake his head.

 

            “I don’t know.”


	23. Chapter 23

Track Alpha

 

            Harry was in the process of attempting to sneak out of the common room when Hermione spotted him.

 

            “Where are you going, Harry?”

 

            Cursing under his breath, Harry turned to face his friends. It wasn’t like he could pretend he hadn’t heard Hermione - she’d yelled loudly enough to alert the entire common room that he was trying to escape without telling the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio. Hermione and Ron were standing by one of the couches, both with jackets and scarves already on. It was a Hogsmede weekend, and they had assumed that, like always, Harry would wait for them, then they’d all leave together.

 

            “Out,” he admitted, a little sheepishly.

 

            “And you weren’t waiting for us?” Ron asked, incredulous.

 

            “I’m not going to lunch,” Harry explained, shoving his mittened hands deeper into his cloak pockets. “I’ve already eaten, and I need to pick something up early.”

 

            “Harry,” Hermione frowned, concerned. “What’s the matter? You’ve been sneaking off all the time lately, haven’t been paying attention to your schoolwork - and in your  _NEWTs_  year, Harry! - and now you’re sneaking off without us?” She looked hurt. “Harry...”

 

            Harry tried to think fast. He still felt horrible if he ever lied to his two best friends, so he couldn’t do that, but it wasn’t as if he could just tell them the truth, either. So a half truth, it was.

 

            “Well, it  _is_  only a week until Christmas hols, and I’m staying here at school this year, you remember, so it’s not as though I’ll even be able to go to Daigon Alley to get anything... I guess I just figured I could meet up with you later...”

 

            Hurt and slightly suspicious expressions changed immediately to relief and slight sheepishness. “Blimey, mate,” Ron snorted. “Why didn’t you just  _say_  so? Meet you at Three Broomsticks later?”

 

            “Got it,” Harry grinned easily, then mock saluted his friends. “See you guys later, kay?”

 

            “See you, Harry!” Hermione chimed, waving.

 

            Sighing softly with relief, Harry slipped out the portrait hole, hurried down the hallways, then stepped out the big front doors. Breathing in the cold, snowy air, he looked around for a moment, then spotted a figure in black and green just outside the front gates to the school, and hurried down the path. Reaching the other, he grinned sheepishly. “Ready?”

 

            Draco nodded, quickly. “You brought your Galleons?”

 

            Harry was the one bringing the money, despite the fact that Draco had just as much as he did. What with what they were planning today, they figured it would be best if Harry did the purchasing. If nothing else, he could use his considerable weight in the wizarding world as The Boy Who Lived to ensure they didn’t get in any real trouble.

 

            “Got them,” Harry confirmed, patting his pocket, which jingled.

 

            “Good, come here.” Draco opened his arms, and Harry, looking nervous, moved close to Draco, who wrapped his arms around the other’s torso. “I know this is awkward, but I’m not good enough at Apparation to transport you any other way.”

 

            “No problem,” Harry answered quickly, though his ears under the green bobbled hat Hermione had knitted for him were burning red. “Let’s just go before someone sees us.”

 

            A moment later, the two of them had disappeared, leaving only snowy footprints behind, then reappeared, a moment later, with a resounding crack, in Knockturn Alley.

 

            Having reached their destination, Draco quickly let go of the other, then tugged the hood of his robe up to cover his distinctively blond hair. Harry, meanwhile, was tugging his hat further down to hide his forehead, and watching the alleyway anxiously. It was just as dark and foreboding as it had been in second year when he’d accidently landed here. Actually, that reminded him of the whole incident in the dark materials store where he’d been hiding in the cabinet. “Where did you say we were going again?”

 

            “ _Borgin’s Wizarding Curios_ ,” Draco said briskly. “My father dealt with the man for years, and he is most likely to have what we need.”

 

            Harry snorted, clapping a bright red mitten over his mouth.

 

            “What  _is_  your problem?” Draco asked, giving the spectacled boy a dubious look.

 

            “Suppose he’ll let you buy the Hand of Glory this time, so you can become a thief and plunderer?”

 

            Draco froze all movement, and slowly turned to look Harry directly in the eyes. “Potter.... how did you know that?”

 

            Harry had to fight down a grin. “Remember that big old cabinet you almost opened before your father called you to go broom shopping, Draco? Let’s just say you would have seen more than the inside of a cabinet had you actually opened it. And it would have been rather embarrassing for The Boy Who Lived to be seen in a Knockturn Alley shop, with broken glasses and all covered in soot.”

 

            Draco stared at him for a long moment, then straightened, realization dawning in his eyes. “You landed in the wrong fireplace.”

 

            Harry shrugged. “First time with Floo powder.”

 

            Draco rolled his mercury eyes, then turned to walk down the street, tugging on the edge of Harry’s cloak to encourage him to follow. “Idiot.”

 

            “Prat,” Harry shot back good naturedly.

 

            Their insults didn’t really hold any venom anymore. They were almost - dare I say it - friends. Almost. At least they weren’t enemies, they worked together on potions, they had very unique conversations about things their other friends didn’t even know about, they shared a rather large secret. Which really makes them sound like friends. But they still were - at least in image - on opposite sides of the war, still on opposing sides of the school, still rivals. As far as everyone except Snape knew, they flatly hated each other, and Snape probably thought they still hated each other too. That was probably what kept the Potions Master sane when he knew that the two of them were working together to find out what was going on. They threw insults - and sometimes fists - when they were in public, then shared anecdotes and odd childhood stories when they were in private. Kind of like.... friends in certain situations.

 

            Reaching the door to the shop they needed, both boys looked back and forth quick to see if anyone was watching them, but if there’s one rule of Knockturn Alley, it’s this: do  _not_  pay attention to what everyone else is doing.

 

            The bell rang as they pushed the door open, and they entered, watching as Mr. Borgins came out from behind the counter.

 

            “Can I help you gentlemen today?”

 

            His voice sounded slightly derisive, like he was wondering what kind of valuable business two teenaged boys could possibly have with him. Draco leaned on the edge of the counter casually, looking down through the glass case at the various gold and silver baubles inside. Harry lingered back a little, making sure not to look directly at Borgins - he didn’t want to be recognized.

 

            Yet.

 

            “Yes, I hope so,” Draco said casually. “You see, we’re looking for something that can’t be obtained just anywhere - we were hoping your establishment would have something suitable.”

 

            Borgins’ eyebrows rose. “Indeed?”

 

            Keeping a proud, aristocratic air about him, as though he could care less about what the man thought of him, Draco said, “We need a time turner.”

 

            Borgins let out a spluttering laugh. “A  _time turner_...?! I can assure you that that is quite impossible, Mr....?”

 

            “Malfoy,” Draco said, tossing back his hood. “And Potter.”

 

            Harry turned now, pushing the edge of his hat up as though by accident, knowing from the gold fish look that suddenly crossed Borgins face that he could see the distinctive scar. Smirking slightly - he had picked that up from hours spent with Draco - he said, “It would be a great help to us, Mr. Borgins, if you would be able to help us.”

 

            Borgins stared at them, as though torn, then began wringing his hands almost desperately. “If I helped you... this could come back to me in a bad way. Neither of your associates are likely to be pleased...”

 

            Harry reached into his pocket, retrieved his sack of Galleons, and dropped them promisingly on the counter in front of Borgins. “We will make it worth your while, and you have our word that none of this will ever make its way back to you.”

 

            Borgins wet his lips with his tongue nervously, looking anxious. “You’re certain?”

 

            “Malfoy honour, Mr. Borgins,” Draco smirked. “My father’s dealings with you were never traceable, were they?”

 

            “Of course not...” Borgins agreed softly, then nodded swiftly, and looked resolved. “Alright. I shall return in a moment, just stay here.” Moving quickly, he retreated back into the bowels of the back of the store, leaving the two of them standing there, waiting.

 

            “Nice performance,” Draco appraised, single eyebrow raised. “Very nicely done.”

 

            “Just tried to pretend to be you,” Harry smirked, turning to stand with his back to the counter, elbows resting on it to support his weight. They stood in silence for a long while, then Harry frowned, glancing over his shoulder to the curtain Borgins had passed through. “He’s been gone for a long time. You think he’s fire calling someone?”

 

            “The Dark Lord or the Ministry?” Draco frowned, considering. “Maybe. Be prepared to hex his ass if you have to.”

 

            Harry moved his arm a little, revealing that his wand was hidden inside his sleeve, and his finger tips were in fact resting on the tip of it already. “Way ahead of you.”

 

            Fortunately, before either of them had to test their quick hex abilities, Borgins came back, holding a small wooden box in his hand. It was covered in dust - as was the man - so it looked like he’d had to dig through old, untouched shelves to find it. Setting the box on the counter carefully, he motioned to it with his left hand. “This is it. Be  _extremely_  careful...” he worried, when Draco reached forward to pick it up.

 

            “You doubt me?” Draco sneered aristocratically, then cracked the box open. He stared at it for a moment, then handed it to Harry. “Adequate to your standards, Mr. Potter?”

 

            Harry took the box, tilting his head a little to the right as he stared at the finely detailed gold and silver contraption inside. Looking up from it, he pierced Borgins with a stern look. “I must test it before I purchase.”

 

            “Of course,” Borgins swallowed. “You know how...?”

 

            “I most certainly do,” Harry removed the device, and slipped the gold chain on it over his neck. “See you fifteen minutes ago.”

 

            Giving it only a very small turn, Harry could see everything moving, as Borgins dashed back into the back, then back to the counter, then back to the back and Draco and himself dashed backwards out the door, until a moment later, he stood alone in the shop, and everything stopped moving rapidly. Smirking, he crossed the room, and opened the door of that infamous cabinet, stepping inside.

 

            Fifteen minutes later, Harry tossed the chain over his neck, twisted the time turner, and disappeared. Seconds later, the cabinet door opened, and Harry stepped out, grinning.

 

            “We’ll take it.”


	24. Chapter 24

Track Change

 

Track Gamma

 

            “How is this a good idea?” Harry whispered, muffling laughter with his mittens.

 

            “This is an amazing idea, and you know it,” Draco smirked, squeezing Harry’s shoulder where he had his arm thrown around him. “You know, we’re really going to need a bigger Invisibility Cloak one of these days, we barely fit under this thing anymore.”

 

            Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. I’ll get right on that. Oh! There they are!”

 

            “Shh...” Draco hissed, nearly grinning.

 

            Just ahead of them, tucked in behind the trees that ringed the Shrieking Shack, stood Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger. There were, shall we say... enjoying themselves by mapping each others tonsils?

 

            Draco and Harry both whipped out wands, and with a few select muttered charms, a veritable  _snowbank_  began to lift off the ground, float, then begin to move towards the snogging couple.

 

            A moment later, and there were shrieks of horror and cold as the Weasel and the Mudblood were buried under a mountain of snow.

 

            Chortling like the purely evil prats they were, Harry and Draco raced from the scene of the crime, barely managing to keep the Invisibility Cloak over themselves as they tumbled in through the back door of the Shrieking Shack, tugging off the silvery cloak to collapse with laughter on the dusty floor. “The  _look_ on their  _faces_!” Harry roared, clutching at his stomach, tears beginning to spill out of his Avada Kedavra green eyes. “Merlin.... that was priceless.”

 

            “I would give up Potions for the next week just to see that expression on Weasel’s face again,” Draco laughed breathlessly. “That, Harry, was without a doubt the most juvenile prank we have pulled in months.”

 

            “No kidding,” Harry almost giggled, flopping back on his back and sighing, content. “Hello, Draconius.”

 

            “It never ceases to amaze me that you two always know when I’m coming,” a slightly amazed voice said, and both boys straightened to look at the other, who was wearing his ornate black robes again, but this time with a green and silver Slytherin scarf tossed artfully around his neck as well.

 

            “You might as well know that Harry and I both cast wards on ourselves years ago,” Draco said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “We know whenever the other is within twenty five feet of the other, and you set off wards keyed to me.”

 

            “Interesting,” Draconius looked impressed, nodding. Looking around for a moment, he conjured a small black arm chair, and settled into it. He hadn’t used a wand, but the two of them had gotten used to his blatant use of what appeared to be wandless magic. They had figured it was probably along the same lines of however it was that he Apparated without actually Apparating. “What is this place? Besides the Shrieking Shack, that is. Why are you here?”

 

            Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. “You don’t know?” Harry asked, frowning.

 

            Draconius shook his head.

 

            “In our third year,” Draco began, choosing his words carefully. “Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban.”

 

            “Yes, I knew that,” Draconius nodded. “What has that to do with this place?”

 

            “This is where Remus Lupin, one of my father’s friends, used to transform into a werewolf once a month,” Harry explained. “Sirius was hiding out here, and took us here when he found the Weasel’s rat, which was really Peter Pettigrew.”

 

            “Ah!” Draconius’ eyes lit up. “I  _do_  recall him. Did he not betray your parents?”

 

            “Precisely,” Draco said smoothly. “After Harry, Sirius and I killed Peter back in that year, we’ve been using this place for ourselves. Mostly to stash our more questionable property... the type Dumbledork undoubtedly would not want on school property. Sometimes we use it to hide from those we pull pranks on.”

 

            “Ahh.... the two Gryffindors outside, mostly buried in snow?”

 

            Harry snickered. “That would be them.”

 

            “Wonderful,” Draconius smiled, seeming pleased. “I was just wondering whether you had - Merlin!”

 

            The other two stared at him as he bolted to his feet, looking alarmed. Then his horror passed, and he sank back into the chair, relaxing. “I must apologize for that - I thought something had gone wrong.”

 

            “Wrong? Wrong how?” Harry asked warily.

 

            Draconius chuckled lightly. “To be honest, I thought you were moving in time, which is quite impossible without a time turner, and as is obvious by seeing you here now, that couldn’t have happened. In any case.” He nodded once, mostly to himself. He really was a little bit insane, they had long ago decided. “I just was wondering whether you had put any consideration into my question.”

 

            “Here’s the thing,” Harry said, frowning. “Draco’s my  _best friend_. I just can’t think of him like that.”

 

            “My sentiments exactly.” Draco nodded, firmly.

 

            “You have  _no_  suspicions whatsoever that your father isn’t being completely honest? That there really isn’t some ulterior motive in having you over every summer and Christmas?”

 

            Draco scowled. “Listen. I fear my father’s intentions as much as I fear my godfathers - which means, I don’t. At all. I trust my father, and I know he will  _not_  allow Harry to be hurt, no matter  _what_  happens. You claim to be me - how can you doubt your own father?”

 

            “How indeed,” Draconius sighed. “I understand - I’m sorry I had to question you like that. I just... I worry.”

 

            “We’ve noticed,” Harry smirked.

 

            He was referring, of course, to the time last month when Draco and he had been playing practice Quidditch - mostly just chasing the Snitch - when a handful of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had come out and started trying to egg them on. Frustrated, and not really in the mood to have to hex a few idiots, Harry and Draco had landed, and started to leave the Quidditch field. As they did, though, one of the idiots had thrown a rock at Harry’s back - and hit him in the head. Draco had promptly hexed the group backwards through Sunday ((That one Ravenclaw never  _did_  get his ears transfigured back.)) and started half carrying Harry towards the school, so they could go to Madame Pomfrey.

 

            On their way, however, Draconius had appeared, and horrified, had practically yanked Harry out of Draco’s arms, sitting right down on the grass, cradling Harry in his lap as he performed healing charm after healing charm. By the time he was done, Harry felt better than he had in months, but the occurrence had led Draco and Harry to conclude that Draconius was paranoid when it came to the two of them.

 

            Which was still a little creepy, when you thought about it. Hey, an exact copy of the Draco Harry’s always known and adored shows up, claiming to actually  _be_  Draco, only really a Draco from a different time and place, and he can appear instantly, performs wandless magic, has a Dark Mark on his arm, and is obsessively over protective.

 

            Wonderful combination.

 

            As it was though...

 

            They might as well get used to the other’s presence. His random appearances and frustratingly cryptic comments didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon.

 

            At that moment, Draconius suddenly surged to his feet. “I must go,” he said quickly... and was gone. Again.

 

            A moment later, one of the shack’s creaky, half apart doors creaked open, and a figure shrouded entirely in black entered, looking back and forth between the two Slytherin boys, who smiled at him.

 

            “Hello, sir,” Harry grinned, pushing himself off the floor.

 

            “Mr. Potter,” Snape nodded. “Mr. Malfoy.”

 

            Draco gave the Potions Master an almost playful pout as he stood. “Mr. Malfoy? Sounds so incredibly dry and formal.”

 

            “It’s still school at present,” Snape reminded him, crossing his arms, and shaking his head. “What possessed you two to attack the Gryffindors with a snow bank?”

 

            Harry and Draco both looked immediately innocent. You’d have sworn there were  _haloes_  over their heads. “A snow bank, sir?”

 

            Snape gave Harry his driest glare. “Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Potter. They went to McGonagall, she went to the Headmaster. Dumbledore would like to see you in his office immediately.”

 

            Both boys groaned, and Draco suggested, “You could vouch for us, right? Tell him that we were with you at the time?”

 

            “I will do no such thing,” Snape said coldly, but there was a slight twinkle in his beetle-black eyes. “Although I  _have_  spoken to the Headmaster, and if you  _are_  prescribed detention, I believe it should be with myself. At least I could save you the humiliation of serving detention under McGonagall, or Filch.”

 

            Harry made a face. “That would be horrible. Thank you, sir.”

 

            Snape nodded once, then turned to leave. “And boys? I’d go now.”

 

            Half an hour and three avoided limbs of the Whomping Willow later, the boys were leaning against the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office, trying to think of what the password could possibly be.

 

            “Ice Mice?”

 

            “Blood Pops.”

 

            “Fizzing Wizzbees.” 

 

            “Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans.”

 

            “Sherbert lemons?”

 

            “Licorice Wands.”

 

            “Cockroach cluster.”

 

            “Drat, that one worked  _last_  time. Fizzing Whizzbees.”

 

            “You already said that one. Sugar quills?”

 

            “Turkish Delight.”

 

            “Err... Milk Duds?”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Oh, you know, the chocolate Muggle candy Pansy got for us over the summer. She got it visiting an eccentric aunt, or something.”

 

            “A Muggle aunt?”

 

            “You know her family better than that. No, of course not. Just eccentric. Jelly Slugs.”

 

            “Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum?”

 

            “Well, wouldn’t it figure. The worst kind. Let’s go.”

 

            “I like Drooble’s...”

 

            “You would.”

 

            Three sharp knocks on a wooden door, and a cheerful, almost mischievous voice answered.

 

            “Come in, boys.”


	25. Chapter 25

Track Change

 

Track Beta

 

            Harry settled in the chair to the right, Draco in the chair to the left. Across from them, eyes twinkling and smiling mischievously, Dumbledore held out a small glass dish.

 

            “Sherbert lemon?”

 

            “No thank you, sir,” Harry smiled nervously.

 

            Draco just shook his head, and Dumbledore shrugged, popping one of the candies in his mouth himself. “Well, gentlemen,” he said with a smile, “I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

 

            The two boys exchanged glances. “Actually, sir, we aren’t.”

 

            “No?” Dumbledore looked mildly surprised, pausing to consider that for a moment. “I would have thought you would. I was referring to the altercation in the Three Broomsticks this afternoon.”

 

            Harry and Draco both winced a little.

 

            They hadn’t been fighting the last few weeks - it seemed odd to fight with someone that you spent a large amount of time with, researching, and generally slowing coming to a truce and possible comradery with. But this afternoon, Neville had tripped while walking through the Hogsmede tavern, and had spilled his butterbeer  _all over_  Draco. Furious, Draco had practically snapped the other’s head off, and despite their ‘truce’, Harry had felt it was only right to defend the Gryffindor Golden Boy. It had been, after all, an accident.

 

            What had started out as a defense had ended up as the two of them standing in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, fists in the front of each other’s robes, wands at each other’s throats, sparks in their eyes.

 

            That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The  _worst_  of it was that, after Madame Rosmerta kicked them out, Hermione Granger had snapped that they had both just get out of denial and admit that there was more to their sudden rivalry than just hatred, and being both seventeen year old boys, they took that totally the wrong way. In the end, Neville had ended up holding Draco back, Ron holding Harry, trying to keep the screaming boys from launching themselves at Granger, who had the nerve to merely quirk her eyebrow, and say primly, “What did I say? Denial.”

 

            “No one was hurt, sir,” Harry tried, swallowing.

 

            “No thanks to Mr. Malfoy or yourself,” Dumbledore reminded him. “I am ashamed of you. Two seventh year students, acting like first years. I have come to expect better of you.”

 

            “It’s not like we’ve been fighting lately,” Harry pointed out, attempting to grasp at any reason why Dumbledore shouldn’t be angry with them.

 

            “Precisely,” Dumbledore reminded them. “I have not heard reports from the teachers about you two misbehaving since the middle of September. I had thought that you had matured somewhat, choosing to set aside your petty differences and learning to work together. Evidently I was wrong.”

 

            Draco sighed like this was some great inconvenience, and spoke up himself. “We did not intend to fight today,  _sir_. It was... an accident, brought on by another accident and Gryffindor pride.”

 

            “I have no doubt of the causes,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I also no longer doubt that you did not in any way intend to harm the other - I have been made aware of the way you two worked together in attempting to prove Miss Granger wrong, which you realize will only serve to further reinforce her hypothesis.” Ignoring their flabbergasted expressions, Dumbledore continued. “With that in mind, I am issuing you detention. Tomorrow night, you will both serve detention with Professor Snape. Together. I believe he wants you to arrive at his office at seven-thirty. For now boys,” and his eyes began twinkling again, “I would attempt to keep out of trouble. Especially together, or Miss Granger will not be the only one with ‘silly ideas’.”

 

            “You may go.”


	26. Chapter 26

Track Change

 

Track Alpha

 

            “I had no idea Dumbledore had spread the Apparation detection barriers as far as Hogsmede,” Harry muttered, as he stepped onto the revolving staircase.

 

            “We would have gone to the other side of Hogsmede, if we had,” Draco frowned. “Now we have detention.”

 

            “But did you notice,” Harry mused thoughtfully, “He didn’t ask  _what_  we bought in Knockturn Alley. And you’d think that would be the first thing he’d do. I mean, if it’s from Knockturn Alley, it’s probably illegal, right?”

 

            “Of course, but you  _are_  Dumbledore’s golden boy. You can do whatever you like, and not get punished for it.” Draco smirked at him.

 

            “Not true,” Harry flushed, then sighed, reaching his hand out to run his fingers across the stone wall as the staircase brought them lower. “Actually, knowing Dumbledore, he already  _knows_  what we bought. He probably even knows  _why_ ,” Harry groaned. “And tomorrow detention with Snape.”

 

            Draco frowned, stepping around the gargoyle, who jumped back into place as soon as Harry and he had passed through. “I am concerned about that. I think Professor Snape requested Dumbledore to give us detention with him. I imagine he wants a progress report... and I’m not about to tell _him_  why we were in Knockturn Alley. He’d knew it has something to do with Draconius.”

 

            Harry was silent for a moment, then said, “We’ll just have to finish and use the potion before then.”

 

            Draco gaped at him. “Are you insane? That would take at least the next twenty-four hours, not to mention we  _wouldn’t_  have time to test it!”

 

            Harry sighed, and began walking in the direction of the bathroom where their potion waited. “Look. I don’t know about you, but Snape would not believe any excuses  _I_  would come up with. Besides that, it’s not like we can really test the potion without just drinking it, anyway. We can take shifts, if that’s what you want, I can work in the night and you can in the day, or the other way around, or I can even just pull the entire shift myself...”

 

            “The potion would kill us if you did it alone,” Draco snapped, automatically.

 

            “Well, then?” Harry crossed his arms. “What do you suggest then?”

 

            There was silence for a very long minute, and several younger year students passed them in the hallway, looking confused that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would be standing in the middle of the first floor hallway, glaring at each other, and not in Hogsmede, in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, glaring at each other. Finally, Draco started walking again, and Harry fell into step beside him, glancing over at his pale rival every few seconds, trying to figure out what was going through that pointy, pretty face.

 

            Just outside the third floor girl’s bathroom, Draco snapped, “If this kills us, it’s your fault.”

 

            “Okay...” Harry said, warily.

 

            “Good,” Draco nodded, and led the other into the bathroom, pointing at the floor beside the cauldron. “Just so long as we have that worked out. Sit.”

 

***

 

            Harry yawned, stretching widely.

 

            It was early Sunday morning.... around five, if he had to guess at a time. Hmm. Actually, time might be a good thing to remember, since Hermione and Ron were likely to come looking for him soon. A wave of sudden panic swept over him. The Marauder’s Map! If they got their hands on that, they’d know exactly where he was....

 

            No.

 

            He’d locked it in his trunk. Ron, he knew, would have wanted to break in and get it from there the instant they’d gotten back from Hogsmede, but Hermione would have stopped him, and would have waited.... actually, she’d have probably gone to McGonagall first, and the Head of House would have informed her that Harry was, indeed, safe and meeting with Dumbledore. After that... she’d give him twenty four hours before she went looking for him. That was, after all, the time limit Harry had given her last year when she kept trying to comfort him. If she knew he was in the castle, but he didn’t show up, give him twenty four hours to mope to himself, then she was allowed to ‘Allohamora’ the trunk and get the map.

 

            That would mean he had until three this afternoon.

 

            Draco had a watch, he knew, so swallowing, Harry crawled around the cauldron, and glanced down at the sleeping Draco Malfoy, who had wrapped himself in his cloak and gone to sleep about three hours ago. Trying very hard to not wake him, Harry’s hand inched forward until he could brush the edge of the cloak back, revealing the glowing face of his watch.

 

            4:57.

 

            That’s right, Harry grinned to himself. He  _did_  have an excellent sense of timing when it was important. Relieved, he moved to push the cloak back over Draco’s arm when the blond shifted.

 

            Holding his breath, Harry froze in place, watching that pale face anxiously. Draco didn’t seem about to wake up, however, and Harry sighed in relief, moving the cloak back over the other’s arm, tucking him in, almost.

 

            “Mmm... Harry?”

 

            Harry froze - again - and looked down. Draco’s mercury eyes were half open, looking up at him sleepily.

 

            “Yeah,” he whispered back. “I just had to check the time. Sorry.”

 

            “No, s’okay,” Draco smiled sleepily, hand sliding out from under the cloak to grab Harry’s wrist. “Go t’sleep.” 

 

            “Okay,” Harry nodded, glancing over at the potion. They did have about three hours before anything needed to be added to it. And besides, it was almost  _cute_ , the way Draco really didn’t seem like himself when half asleep.

 

            “‘mere,” Draco slurred, and Harry let out a yelp when Draco tugged on his arm hard enough to send him crashing to the floor. Draco only chuckled sleepily at Harry’s muffled declarations of protest, and snuggled back under his own cloak. “Sleep.” He commanded, nearly asleep himself.

 

            “Fine,” Harry grumbled, heaving himself off his stomach on onto his side. He nearly stopped breathing when he realized just how incredibly close to the blond he now lay. So close, in fact, that when Draco breathed out, Harry’s hair ruffled in the breeze.

 

            This was not a good idea, he rationalized, and made to get up.

 

            As quickly as before, Draco’s hand was locked around his wrist. “I said,  _sleep_ ,” Draco muttered, brows furrowing over his closed eyes. “I can’t sleep when you keep moving.”

 

            Harry had to wonder if maybe Draco wasn’t a lot more awake than he had been letting on. He sounded quite lucid now. “Fine.”

 

            “Good,” Draco muttered, moving his head a little on the jumper he’d bunched up as a pillow, but didn’t remove his hand from around Harry’s wrist.

 

***

 

            Harry woke up pleasantly warm and comfortable. Scrunching his head further down into his soft pillow, he smiled, warm and safe. He hadn’t dreamed at all, not even had nightmares, whether induced by Voldemort or any other kind. It was nice.

 

            Although his mattress  _did_  feel a lot harder than normal...

 

            “Potion’s ready.”

 

            Blinking, Harry realized that he was looking at a stone floor and not at his sheets, and sat up sharply. Draco Malfoy sat across a cauldron from him, watching him placidly, backlit by golden afternoon sun that shone in behind him.

 

            “Huh?” He asked, intelligently of course. ((Sarcastic bastard, Harry accused himself.))

 

            “Potion’s ready.” Draco repeated, looking calm. “I figured since you were awake, you should know. I just added the time turner sand.” His hand waved lazily at the remains of the golden device. “So all it needs is my hair, and we’ll be ready.”

 

            “Oh.” Harry scratched at his head, messing his already disheveled hair even further. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

 

            “You looked tired last night,” Draco said calmly, but he wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Plus, you didn’t move when I moved you, so I thought you must have been exhausted.”

 

            Moved...? Harry was bewildered for a moment, until he looked down and realized that he had gone to sleep without any head support this morning, and now Draco’s emerald coloured jumper had been folded up and placed under his head. For that matter, he had just been wearing his cloak, and Draco’s heavier winter cloak had been draped over him too, like a blanket. Embarrassed suddenly, Harry looked away sheepishly, then asked, “How long did I sleep?”

 

            “A while,” Draco said lightly. “It’s 3:10 now.”

 

            3:10.

 

            Why was that important?

 

            “ _Shit_!” Harry yelped, suddenly sitting bolt upright, horror written all over his face.

 

            “What is your problem?” Draco asked, confused.

 

            “3:10. Ron and Hermione are coming.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “It’s after three, and they will now be looking for me.” Seeing the other’s bewildered expression, Harry forced himself to swallow, and tried to explain. “I made Hermione promise that she would never look for me within 24 hours of having gone missing, since I was moping and wanted to be left alone.”

 

            “And if you were captured? Killed?” Draco looked dubious. “Seeing as how you  _are_  who you are, isn’t that dangerous?”

 

            “She made a charm, lets her know if I’m on school grounds or in grave danger,” Harry ground out, then fumbled to find the two beakers they’d smuggled in from the Great Hall. Thrusting them towards Draco, he said, “Here. We need to take it  _now_.”

 

            “If you make them wait twenty-four hours, then they’ll just be coming now,” Draco sighed, not seeing what the big fuss was. “It’s a big school, Harry. It’ll take them an hour at least.”

 

            “No...” Harry tugged on his hair. “Hermione is allowed to go into my trunk. I have a map.”

 

            “A map.”

 

            “A map of Hogwarts,” Harry let out in a breath, then paused, before spilling forth with the rest of the information. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. “It shows where everyone is in the school. And ten minutes ago, Hermione will have pulled out that map, said the magic words, and seen two dots labeled ‘Draco Malfoy’ and ‘Harry Potter’ in the third floor girl’s bathroom.”

 

            “Shit,” Draco said suddenly, agreeing with him, and began to scoop potion into the beakers. “Where in the world did you get that?”

 

            “My father made it,” Harry figured that was simple enough to last for now.

 

            “Hn,” Draco muttered in interest, then grabbed his wand, pulled a few hairs away from the rest of them, and hissed, “Severio.” Dropping a few pale blond hairs in each beaker - which bubbled and steamed and altogether sizzled in a most alarming manner - he reached over the cauldron, handing it to Harry. “Cheers,” he said lightly, clicking the edges of the glasses together, then tossed his head back and imbibed the liquid.

 

            Harry could only watch with almost morbid fascination as Draco’s throat muscles flexed and moved, then Draco thunked the beaker down on the floor, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand.

 

            “How does it taste?” Harry didn’t want to guess, from the horrible grimace that flickered across the blond’s features.

 

            “Like death,” Draco grunted, then glanced up at him. “You’d better drink that before the Gryffindorks get here.”

 

            The door slammed open, and the horrified voices of his friends cried, “Harry!”

 

            “Too late,” Harry muttered, and before either Ron or Hermione could say anything more, tossed the beaker back.

 

            Draco was right, it  _did_  taste like death. And unpleasant death too, not quick and easy Adavra Kedavra death. More like slow and tortuous Crucio death. He could feel his taste buds wanting to give up and die on the spot, but it really wasn’t all that much worse than the remembered taste of the Polyjuice potion from second year, and at least  _this_  potion wouldn’t turn him into someone else.

 

            At least, it  _better_  not.

 

            Setting his own beaker down heavily, Harry gagged, making a face. “Awful.”

 

            “Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione asked with concern, obviously confused.

 

            “Sorry, Hermione.” Harry sighed, looking up to see her and Ron in the doorway. Hermione just looked worried. Ron looked like he was debating whether to kill Draco or to faint on the spot.

 

            “For what?” Ron asked, eyes flitting over to look at Draco for a moment. Draco, for his part, looked remarkably calm, given the circumstances.

 

            “For lying to you.”

 

            “Oh, you mean not coming to Hogsmede yesterday?” Hermione gave him a sharp look. “I would have rather you’d have just told us the truth, Harry.”

 

            Harry shrugged.

 

            Hermione frowned, then asked, “What did you buy in Knockturn Alley, Harry?”

 

            “Knockturn Alley?!”Ron spluttered, horrified. “That’s dark arts, stuff! What were you doing there, Harry?!”

 

            Draco sneered. “Ever the noble Gryffindor. We didn’t buy anything  _dark_ , Weasel, relax.”

 

            Just as Ron was bout to snap at the Slytherin, Harry sighed, and interrupted. “We bought a time turner.”

 

            Hermione looked alarmed. “Those are illegal without Ministry permission!”

 

            Harry toed the remains of the time turner towards her. “I don’t think that’ll be much problem right now.”

 

            Hermione stared down at the twisted metal and glass remains, then softly asked, without looking up, “What did you want with time turner sand, Harry?”

 

            Harry shrugged again, then pushed himself to his feet, and looked down at the cauldron. “Draco, do we need to drink any more of this?”

 

            Ron let out a strangled choking sound at the use of Draco’s first name, and even Hermione looked alarmed.

 

            Draco didn’t even blink. “No.”

 

            “Will we need to at any later point?”

 

            “No.”

 

            “Good. Scourgify.”

 

            Instantly the magical soup bubbles began scrubbing out the cauldron, and Draco gave him a look like he was insane. “What was that for?”

 

            “Now Snape can’t figure out what we brewed, and they can’t drink it,” Harry said calmly, then looked down at the jumper and cloak at his feet. “Do you want your clothes?”

 

            Ron’s choking apparently intensified.

 

            “Hmm. Good idea,” Draco nodded, and stood as well, tugging his jumper on when Harry handed it to him, then swinging his cloak on. “I don’t know about you, but this is one very awkward situation I’d be like to be leaving as soon as possible.”

 

            “Ha!”

 

            The triumphant laugh made both them and Hermione jump, and they all turned to stare at Ron, who was pointing at Draco with a slightly shaking hand. “I knew it! You’ve drugged him, or something, haven’t you?!”

 

            “What?” Harry asked, bewildered.

 

            “Or... or it’s Imperio!” Ron continued. “I knew it, you Malfoy bastard, using Unforgiveables on Harry, wait’ll the Headmaster hears...”

 

            “Impossible.” Draco said smugly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

 

            “What?” Ron spluttered. “Don’t you think I won’t, I know Dumbledore would...”

 

            “No, Weasel.” Draco smirked. “I meant, it’s impossible to cast Imperio on Harry. He shakes it off like it’s nothing.”

 

            “He has got a point, Ron,” Hermione said quietly.

 

            “But...” Ron gaped, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “But...”

 

            “I hope your Apparation theory is correct,” Harry broke the awkward moment, beginning to walk around the cauldron towards Draco. “Since we didn’t have a chance to test it.”

 

            “Apparation?” Hermione repeated, looking warily back and forth between the two of them. “You can’t Apparate while on Hogwart’s grounds. It’s in...”

 

            “Hogwarts: A History, I know,” Harry grinned, good naturedly. “In a minute or two, we’ll see, won’t we? I mean, if this works the way it’s supposed to, you will, anyway.”

 

            “Harry,” Hermione said slowly, softly. “What are you doing?”

 

            Harry didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how he could.

 

            Instead, Draco stretched out a single arm, waiting. Ignoring his friends flinches and expressions of horror, Harry stepped forward so that he stood against the other boy’s chest, and Draco wrapped that extended arm around him, effectively capturing Harry inside his cloak.

 

            “Harry,” Ron said, in a strangled, horrified voice.

 

            “Sorry,” Harry shrugged, then turned to look at Draco. “Ready.”

 

            Draco smirked the smirk of the triumphant. “Let’s go.”

 

            And they disappeared.


	27. Chapter 27

Track Change

 

Track Eta

 

            They reappeared a moment, later, almost stumbling.

 

            “Where are we?” Harry asked first, turning his head to look around the corridor they’d landed in. It didn’t look like any hall in Hogwarts he’d ever seen.

 

            “Durmstrang,” Draco said slowly, looking as confused as Harry felt. “What are we doing at  _Durmstrang_?”

 

            “ _Durmstrang_?!” Harry repeated, jaw dropping. “I thought the potion only moved you a little in place and a lot in time!”

 

            “Apparently it’s a lot in place, a little in time,” Draco scowled, looking around.

 

            “Well... then why’d you apparate us to  _Durmstrang_?” Harry demanded, still incredibly confused by where they’d ended up.

 

            “I didn’t,” Draco said shortly. “I tried to move us to wherever Draconius is.”

 

            “But he told us he went to  _Hogwarts_.”

 

            Draco finally dropped his arm off Harry’s shoulder, stepping back so their chests weren’t touching anymore. “He did. He said it was a Hogwarts without Dumbledore, but that it was still Hogwarts.” He frowned, considering, looking up and down the halls. “Perhaps he’s trying to affect more than just us? Someone here at Durmstrang?”

 

            “Yeah, that’s possible,” Harry nodded at last, realizing where Draco was going with this. “How did you know this was Durmstrang, anyway?”

 

            “My father wanted me to go here,” Draco took a few more steps away, to peer around a corner. “So I came to see the school before I went to Hogwarts. I just happened to remember what the school looks like.”

 

            “Hmm.” Harry frowned, looking around. “So... do you think we should try to find Draconius here, or keep looking somewhere else?”

 

            As Draco was about to answer, someone else broke in.

 

            “Harry?!”

 

            Both turned, and both nearly jumped out of their skin to discover that the person who was doing the yelling was in fact, Draconius.... only a slightly less insane looking Draconius, wearing a Durmstrang uniform. He appeared not to notice Draco standing there, and instead rushed to Harry, staring at him disbelieving.

 

            “How... how did you get here?” He asked, an awed smile working its way onto his face.

 

            “Ah... I...” Harry started, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Draco for support, but Draco looked as startled as he felt.

 

            “You know what, I don’t care  _how_  you got here, I’m just glad you are,” then this other alternate Draco - because he could  _not_  be Draconius - grabbed Harry’s face, pulled him forward...

 

            And kissed him.

 

            Harry’s eyes bugged out in disbelief, and Draco nearly fell over. Jaw hanging, he started coughing, which drew the other’s Draco’s attention, releasing Harry’s mouth to look at Draco.

 

            “Draconius!” This other Draco gasped, then paused. “You’re not...”

 

            “No,” Draco said, bemused. “Neither are you. Apparently.”

 

            Harry, meanwhile, had been scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the hell was  _that_  for?!”

 

            “I’m beginning to suspect we’re seeing a bit of Draconius’ purpose after all...” Draco smirked, crossing his arms.

 

            “Wait... you’re not...” this other Draco turned to look at Harry, then his eyes widened in horror. “You’re not my Harry.”

 

            “No kidding,” Harry spluttered, then nearly jumped again when Draco walked up beside him and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

 

            “He’s my Harry.”

 

            Harry gave him a dry look. “Prat.”

 

            Draco turned to smirk at him for a moment, then looked back at the other Draco. Who, now that they thought about it, looked just a little younger than them, maybe in sixth year. “I’m assuming from that that you  _do_  know who Draconius is.”

 

            “Yes,” this other Draco swallowed, concerned, glancing back and forth between them. Suddenly, he looked away, refusing to meet their eyes, and said softly. “Sorry. I thought you were my Harry.”

 

            Harry blinked for a few seconds, then grinned. “Well, well. A Malfoy apologizing. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

 

            “Don’t hold your breath to see it from any other one,” Draco sneered. “Look, do you have anywhere we can talk that  _isn’t_  the middle of a hallway?”

 

            “Yes,” the Durmstrang student said, after a moment, turning and heading back the way he’d come. “Follow me.”

 

            A few moments later, Draco and Harry were sitting on a couch in a relatively good sized private room, while the other Draco settled himself on the edge of the bed. They were all warily watching each other, until Harry broke the silence.

 

            “Look, you know Draconius. What did he want with you?”

 

            The other Draco frowned, dredging up memories. “It was two years ago, during fourth year. Durmstrang was competing in the Triwizard Tournament. I wasn’t able to compete, I was too young, but my father convinced Karkarroff to let me come along. While I was there, at Hogwarts, Draconius showed up. He... He introduced me to Harry, basically tried to force us together. It worked. I was so worried about him after the second task - I mean, I knew he could fly in the first task, so I really wasn’t all that worried - but I... I worried about him. And I realized Draconius was right.”

 

            At the exact same moment, both Hogwarts students tried to ask him a question.

 

            Harry: “He tried to set you two up?!”

 

            Draco: “How did you know Harry could fly? You didn’t know him.”

 

            The other Draco looked at them for a moment, then picked a question to answer first. “Yes, he did try - and succeeded - in ‘setting us up’ as you put it. And I knew Harry could fly because  _everyone_  knows Harry can fly. He’s not the youngest seeker for the English Quidditch team for nothing. He led England to a victory my fourth year.”

 

            They gaped at him. “What?” Harry asked at last.

 

            The other Draco was giving them very odd looks by this point. “In my fourth year, Harry was seventeen, in his seventh year. He spent the summer playing Quidditch. Led England to a World Cup Victory. He was the Hogwart’s Champion, in the Triwizard tournament.”

 

            If Harry had been standing, he would have fallen to his seat. Instead, he just slumped back in his couch, mouth hanging open.

 

            “You mean to tell me,” Draco said smoothly. “That you are three years younger than Harry, and that he plays Quidditch for England?”

 

            “Yes...” the other said slowly. “Why?”

 

            Draco slumped back in his seat as well, taking a deep breath. “We’re both seventeen. Harry plays quidditch for Gryffindor, but not for England. He was the  _fourth_  Champion in the Triwizard tournament, and technically shouldn’t have been in it because he wasn’t seventeen.”

 

            “I didn’t even put my name in the Goblet of Fire,” Harry spoke up then, eyes closed tightly in disbelief. It was as if, if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t real.

 

            “But you know who Draconius is,” the Durmstrang Draco said slowly.

 

            “He has been appearing for the last four months,” Draco said, closing his own eyes, and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “He told us he had some great purpose for us, but he refused to tell us what it is.” Sighing, he opened his eyes, glancing over at Harry. “I think we can guess now what it is.”

 

            “‘You don’t even realize what you have...’” Harry muttered. “That’s what he said. ‘You don’t even realize what you have.’ He’s been planning to do this since the very beginning.”

 

            “Well, I doubt he expected us to duplicate his potion,” Draco sneered, then thought of something else. Turning to the younger version of him, he asked, “Did he tell you  _why_  he was trying to force the two of you together?”

 

            The other blinked. “No.”

 

            “Hmm. That would have been handy.” Draco leaned back comfortably, throwing his arms across the back of the couch. “I’m beginning to suspect that this has less and less to do with time and more and more to do with decisions.”

 

            “What do you mean?” Harry asked, sitting up properly, only to discover that Draco’s arm over the sofa was disturbingly close to Draco’s arm around his shoulders again.

 

            “He said he forgot  _where_  he was, not  _when_  he was,” Draco considered, eyes focused on a spot of stone floor as he thought. “We apparated, and ended up in a different  _place_ , not a different  _time_. And now we meet this Draco who goes to Durmstrang, is three years younger than you, and you apparently play for England. This isn’t another  _time_ , Harry, or we would still be the same age. This is a different  _choice_.”

 

            “I don’t understand,” Harry frowned. The alternate Draco looked about as confused as Harry felt.

 

            “What would have happened, Harry, if my father had decided to send me to Durmstrang, instead of listening to my mother?”

 

            “We... we wouldn’t have been rivals,” Harry said slowly. “I doubt we would have even met.”

 

            “And what if, in combination with that, my parents had chosen not to have children until three years after the time they did where we’re used to?”

 

            Harry paused, then looked up sharply, realization on his face. “Exactly what happened here.”

 

            “Precisely,” Draco nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I think, Harry, what we have discovered, is not a series of times and places that Draconius has managed to transport himself to, but a series of possibilities. It’s... it’s a series of ‘what ifs’. What if this had happened instead of that, and so on.”

 

            “So you mean, there could be a world out there where Tom Riddle decided  _not_  to be evil, and there is no Voldemort?” Harry suggested, catching onto the point.

 

            “Hmm.” One of Draco’s brows arched. “Hadn’t thought of that, but yes, I would imagine.”

 

            “So...” the other, younger Draco frowned. “You two are from a place where you  _both_  go to Hogwarts?”

 

            “Hmm,” Harry nodded. “I’m in Gryffindor, Draco’s in Slytherin. We’re both seekers for our house teams.”

 

            “And Draconius has been appearing for the last four months, but he hasn’t told you  _why_  yet?” Alternate Draco frowned, crossing his arms. “That’s odd. He told me - and Harry - why he was there within a few days. He said it was.... some kind of... destiny, that we would be together.”

 

            Draco snorted. “That’s pathetic.”

 

            The younger blond flushed. “I thought it was sweet.”

 

            Harry quickly hid his grin behind his hand, looking away from the two blonds so he wouldn’t burst out laughing.

 

            “Oh, you  _would_  think it was funny,” Draco sneered, rolling his eyes. “Look, I think we’ve gotten all we are going to learn from this... possibility. Shall we try another?”

 

            Harry bit the insides of his cheeks. “Want to see how we end up together in another world, Draco, sweetie?”

 

            “Don’t call me that,” Draco gave him a cold look, then just reached his arm a little further over on the couch, snagging Harry’s shoulders in his grip. “You’re just lucky I need you to help me stop this insane version of me, or I might just  _leave_  you here. Imagine what this version of me could do with  _two_  of you,” Draco smirked, pleased to see Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “Let’s see what else we can do, shall we?”

 

            They disappeared again.


	28. Chapter 28

Track Change

 

Track Pi Zeta

 

            Harry and Draco both hit the floor with a thump, seeing as how they had been sitting on the couch when they Apparated, and of course, there was no couch beneath them...

 

            In the potions classroom?

 

            “It’s a good thing there isn’t a class here at the moment,” Draco said, standing, and straightening out his cloak. “That would be embarrassing.”

 

            “No kidding,” Harry agreed, brushing himself off as he stood. “So which world do you suppose this one is?”

 

            “No idea,” Draco frowned, and moved to the door of the classroom. Cracking it open, he peered down the hall for a moment, then glanced back at Harry. “Coast is clear.”

 

            “Good,” Harry hurried to join him, then they started down the hall. “Wait... isn’t the potion supposed to track us right down to  _you_? In whatever place we go to?”

 

            “I think it only takes us to the general location. There must be some way to further refine it - after all, Draconius lands exactly wherever he wants to be. He must look ahead before he goes somewhere.”

 

            “Like a window,” Harry muttered, thoughtfully.

 

            “Yes, like a window.” Draco and Harry walked in silence for some time, then suddenly Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulders, and hauled him into a small side corridor. Harry let out a yelp of surprise, but Draco slammed his hand over Harry’s mouth, shaking his head.

 

            For a moment longer, there was silence, then a soft voice called, making both of them freeze.

 

            “I know you’re there...” there was a soft chuckle, then the speaker purred, “Come on out, I won’t hurt you, I can’t hurt you... I know you’re there... I can  _smell_  you...”

 

            “He can  _smell_  us?” Harry mouthed against Draco’s hand, and Draco shook his head sharply, motioning for silence.

 

            “Hmm... someone else with you, my pretty, yes, someone else... you know I don’t like you touching other people, pretty... do I have to kill them to get the point across? Come on out, pretty, come on out...”

 

            “Who  _is_  that?” Harry murmured, earning him a sharp look from Draco.

 

            “No,” Draco mouthed, eyes narrowing for a moment, then they widened suddenly, and he tightened his grip on Harry, tugging him further back in the corridor.

 

            “Draco!” Harry hissed at last, tugging his head away from Draco’s grip, then froze as, just over his shoulder, a voice purred, “Yes?”

 

            Harry’s entire body had completely locked up, so Draco did the only thing he could think to do. He yanked Harry’s body to his chest again, tightened his grip on his wand, and yelled, “ _Lumos maxima_!”

 

            There was a yelp from behind Harry, and even Harry gasped, and buried his face in the front of Draco’s jumper to avoid being blinded. Draco himself was squinting, glad the sudden and total flooding light of the corridor had blinded their adversary.

 

            An adversary, who despite crouching on the floor with hands over their eyes, longer hair, and... - were those  _wings_? - looked exactly like Draco himself.

 

            “Nox, lumos,” Draco muttered, making the light go out then flare back at normal levels in a moment. “Who the hell are you?!”

 

            The other him, still wincing, peered up at him carefully. “Who am  _I_?! Who are  _you_ , and what the hell are you doing with my mate?!”

 

            Draco took a step back, dragging a startled Harry with him. “What?!”

 

            “Did he just call me his  _mate_?!” Harry gaped, horrified.

 

            “Mine,” the other, winged Draco hissed, eyes flashing a dangerous silver, the pupils all but disappearing. “Back away from him, and I’ll  _consider_  not killing you.”

 

            Draco only raised a single eyebrow. “Harry, are you as disturbed by this as I am?”

 

            “Oh yeah,” Harry muttered. “Why does he have wings?”

 

            “Because he’s a Veela,” another voice said, and the winged Draco spun in his crouch on the ground.

 

            Harry Potter stood in the entrance to the tunnel, only not  _exactly_  the same Harry Potter that currently stood, wide-eyed, against Draco Malfoy’s chest, fingers gripping his rival’s jumper so hard his knuckles were white. This Harry was a bit taller, with much longer hair, no glasses, his clothing ripped and tattered, and a rather dramatic bite mark on his neck.

 

            “Harry!” This alternate Draco gasped, sounding horribly relieved, and bolted to his feet, sweeping forward to draw the alternate Harry into a tight embrace. “What happened? You’re hurt! Someone’s scent all over you...”

 

            Alternate Harry tilted his head to the side, sighing as alternate Draco nuzzled his nose over the bite mark, investigating it. “I was attacked. Who are you two?”

 

            “Ah... you, sort of,” Draco said slowly. “He’s a  _Veela_?”

 

            “Mmm hmm,” alternate Harry nodded, smiling a little when alternate Draco flicked his eyes over towards them, growling. “Male Veelas are a little different from female Veelas - it’s the mate that releases the pheremones, not the Veela, so I have a tendency to get mauled in the hallways. Draconius didn’t mention any others being able to transport between places.”

 

            “You know who Draconius is?!” Harry asked quickly, pulling away from Draco enough to take a couple steps forward. Seconds later, he was backed right back up against Draco’s chest as the alternate Draco hissed dangerously at him, wings rising a little.

 

            “Mmm,” alternate Harry didn’t seem to much inclined to be talking at the moment. His eyes were half closed, and he seemed to have relaxed visibly into the winged Draco’s embrace. “He’s the one who explained all about Veela to me, last summer. Warned me what would happen when I got to school in September. How he knew I was Draco’s mate, I don’t know...”

 

            “We’re beginning to suspect he knows more about all the worlds than he’s letting on,” Draco frowned, then calmly copied the alternate Draco, wrapping his arms firmly around Harry’s torso. “Thank you... and... have a wonderful life together?”

 

            Alternate Harry had started  _purring_. “We will.”

 

            “Let’s get out of here,” Draco muttered, and Apparrated.


	29. Chapter 29

Track Change

 

Track Upsilon Nu Delta

 

            “Potter, promise me that you will never start  _purring_.”

 

            “So long as you promise you won’t start chasing me down in dark hallways and growing  _wings_ , Malfoy.”

 

            “Deal,” Draco nodded, then shuddered. “That was just disturbing...”

 

            “You’re telling me,” Harry grumbled. “I was alternately prey and rival. That was just plain  _disturbing_.”

 

            “Will it make you feel any better to hear that I am not, in fact, in any way, shape, form, function, or measure, Veela?”

 

            “Somewhat,” Harry admitted after a pause. “Or you could have always told me that I wasn’t your mate. That would work, too.”

 

            “Harry, we have been to two other worlds - besides this one, and I have no idea where we are anyway, in this one - and in both of them, Draconius has found some way to force the two of us together. And he’s basically stalking us in our world. What do you think the chances are that, if I were Veela, you wouldn’t be my mate?”

 

            Harry frowned, resting his chin on his knees, which were folded up against his chest. It was rather cramped in the small corner they’d hidden themselves in upon finding themselves in the Owlery. “Slight?”

 

            “Slim to nil, as my mother would say,” Draco answered, tilting his head back against the stone wall. “When do you suppose that snogging couple is going to leave so we can get out of here and try to find the alternate us so we can rule this place out as a Draconius world?”

 

            Harry leaned forward to peer out at the pair in question.

 

            It was interesting, really. It was like him and Draco, only if him and Draco had exchanged places, since the brunette wore the Slytherin uniform and the blond wore the Gryffindor.... wait a minute....

 

            “Draco,” Harry hissed, leaning back. “This isn’t Draconius’ world.”

 

            “How do you know?” Draco shot back. 

 

            “The snogging couple’s pretty damn familiar.”

 

            Draco stared at him for a long moment, then he closed his eyes, and sighed. “It’s the alternate us, isn’t it?”

 

            “Mm-hmm.”

 

            Draco let out a sigh of disgust, reached over to catch Harry in a rough hug, and said, “This is starting to get old.”

 

            And they apparated again.

 


	30. Chapter 30

Track Change

 

Track Tau Mu

 

            “It’s awfully dark,” Harry said lightly, squinting at their surroundings.

 

            “That would be because it’s night,” Draco said dryly, pulling his wand out of his sleeve.

 

            “Obviously,” Harry snapped back, then sighed. “Sorry, short nerves. Well, why are we on the  _roof_ , anyways? I mean, it’s not like we’re likely to find Draconius on a  _roof_  somewhere.”

 

            “Why not?” Draco asked, frowning at their surroundings. “What if Draconius likes the roof? He is, after all, slightly more sane than Trelawny.”

 

            Harry snickered, but didn’t say anything.

 

            It was pleasantly cool, up there on the Astronomy tower roof. Though there had been a few tense moments when they’d first arrived, and Draco had been forced to hug Harry tighter, falling backwards with the Boy Who Lived tumbling on top of him to the roof in order to avoid tumbling to the ground far below, it was comfortable now, as they sat side by side on the copper shingled roof.

 

            “So,” Harry said idly. “Where do you think the alternate us is, here? I mean, a roof isn’t really the kind of place I tend to hang out on.”

 

            “I thought you liked flying,” Draco said mildly. “Roofs are the next best thing, for some people.”

 

            “Yeah, but...” Harry looked torn for a moment, then sighed, flopping back on his back on the tiles, feet propped steadily against the stone edge of the roof. “It’s not the same. Besides, have  _you_  seen any indication that our alternate selves are up here?”

 

            Draco, meanwhile, was straightening even as Harry asked this, eyes narrowing as he glared at something a little piece away. Tapping his wand to his own temple, he whispered, “Oculus nuit,” watched what he had spotted for a moment more, then turned to Harry, reaching out to catch his wrist as he had the night before. “Hold on,” he murmured at the other’s startled expression, then tapped the wand to the brunette’s temple, and repeated the spell.

 

            Harry blinked a few times, startled. “Hey, I can  _see_  in the  _dark_.”

 

            “That would be the point of a night vision spell,” Draco sneered a little, then tugged on Harry’s wrist, pulling him up until he was sitting. “Look there,” he hissed.

 

            Harry turned to look the direction the blond was pointing, then his jaw dropped, nearly face faulting. “Wh...what... shouldn’t we go _help_?!”

 

            “Too late,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. “Well, look on the bright side. Now the Dark Lord can’t kill the other you.”

 

            “Because I’ll already be  _dead_!” Harry spluttered, still horror struck. “I can’t believe he’s  _letting_  you do that.”

 

            “Might not have a choice, I don’t know,” Draco shrugged, tilting his head to the side so that he could look on the scene at a different angle. “Wonder if you  _really_  taste that good.”

 

            Harry let out a slight, strangled sound, and when Draco turned to look at him, his eyes were wide, his face pale, and he was regarding Draco as though the blond had grown an extra head. “Don’t  _ever_  attempt to drink my blood, got it?”

 

            “I don’t know,” Draco said thoughtfully, watching. “They  _do_  both look like they’re enjoying themselves.”

 

            “I don’t care,” Harry growled. “You’re  _not_  going to turn into a vampire, then turn me into one, got it?”

 

            Draco chuckled lowly, deeply, for a moment, then froze, suddenly, hand reaching up to rest on his chest. His heart hurt, like a sporadic lurching, like sweet pain... then everything passed, and all attention was focused again on the sweet boy lying there beside him.

 

            Mmm.

 

            “But Haaarrrry...” Draco grinned, looking decidedly  _very_  evil, then slid over the tiles, then turned, leaning down so that his torso pressed against the startled and horrified brunette’s. “We’d be immortal, you see, and as your Sire, I’d be able to affect you in ways you can only  _dream_  of, Haarrry...” He dragged out the name intentionally, dropping his voice down to a husky growl, until it ended with a tangible hiss at the tip of his tongue, deep throated promises of far more than just exchanges of blood. He was, to put it mildly, pleased to see the way the heat rose on Harry’s neck and cheeks, tinting his ears, sweet red blood...

 

            “D....D... Draco?” Harry breathed, not quite daring himself to move. “Look.... um... what are you  _doing_?!”

 

            Draco didn’t answer, just dropped his head, nose finding its way to the fine, tousled black hair that wisped around Harry’s right ear, breathing deeply of the scent of pine trees and apples, before letting the very tip of his tongue out to trail along the side of Harry’s cheek, ignoring the strangled sound of horror that escaped the other. “So sweet...”

 

            “D... D... Malfoy!” Harry yelped, pushing hard as he could manage against the other’s chest, frantic. He had to get Draco off of him, and he had to do it  _now_! Draco was  _not_  acting like himself!

 

            For a moment, it seemed as though the blond hadn’t heard him, then Draco let out a horrified, strangled sound, and bolted back, and away from Harry, staring at him with wild, horrified mercury eyes. “What the hell just  _happened_?!”

 

            Infinitely relieved, Harry sighed, hand rising to cover his burning face. “I don’t  _know_ , I was just going to ask  _you_  that.”

 

            “Oh Merlin...” Draco breathed, clenching his fists so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palms. “That was.... I don’t.... thundering son of a sea-gherkin!” Slamming his fists down on the tiles, Draco snarled to himself. “I.... I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

            Harry just gaped at him.

 

            “What? I  _said_  I was sorry,” Draco growled, refusing to look at the other.

 

            “Who are you, and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?”

 

            “Your rapier wit slays me, Potter,” Draco said dryly, then reached a single arm out, at shoulder length. “I think we need to get out of here before I do anything else stupid.”

 

            “Agreed,” Harry muttered, and crawled gingerly across the roof to settle back in Draco’s half hug again.

 

            They disappeared, only moments before a pair of vampires, one very newly such, peered over the ledge of the roof.

 

            “Shame,” the blond one hissed. “I thought we might invite them to join us.”

 

            “That was a very mean spell to cast on the other you,” vampiric Harry hissed, looking a little put out.

 

            “Lust spells are perfectly allowable in certain situations,” the undead Malfoy said primly. “Besides, those spells only work when there’s something for them to work on, they’re not like lost potions. He had to have  _wanted_  to do that at some level for that to work.” He then turned to grin at Harry, fangs revealed and glinting in the dim moonlight. “What say you we do some disappearing of our own?”

 

            Harry smiled, bloodstained lips quirking upwards. “Yes, lets.”


	31. Chapter 31

Track Change

 

Track Chi Koppa Vau

 

            “I really didn’t...”

 

            “I know,” Harry shrugged. “I know. Look, is it just me, or is this hallway  _really_  quiet?”

 

            “It’s unnaturally quiet, yes.” Draco frowned up and down the corridors. “And have you noticed that something’s missing? Ghosts? Portraits?”

 

            “Suits of armor are gone too,” Harry frowned. “I hate to say it, but maybe we should check the Great Hall?”

 

            “Everyone will be there, though!” Draco stared at Harry like he’d gone insane. “How would that be a  _good_  idea? Waltz in where _everyone_  can see us?”

 

            “No, I was thinking more along the lines of checking to see if we could  _hear_  anything going on in there,” Harry frowned. “You can normally hear the crowd in there a long ways away.”

 

            Draco frowned thoughtfully. “You just might have hit on something mildly plausible there, Potter. Too bad you don’t have your Invisibility Cloak on you.”

 

            “I could steal one from one of these Harry’s....” Harry suggested, but didn’t look like he really liked that idea. “Don’t really want to do that, though. I know I’d feel just awful if mine went missing, it’s almost the only thing I have left from my dad.”

 

            “Cry me a river,” Draco snapped waspishly, but tightened his grip on Harry’s arm nonetheless. “I don’t hear  _anything_  from the Great Hall. This is not normal, Harry. Are they all on the Quidditch pitch?”

 

            “Possible, I suppose,” Harry said softly. “But I still think we should check the Great Hall first.”

 

            Draco nodded, and together, the two walked slowly, and as quietly as they could, towards the Great Hall, trying not to attract any attention, despite the fact that there really appeared to be no one in the halls at  _all_.

 

            Of course, once they reached the Great Hall, all thoughts of silence were forgotten.

 

            “Belemite!”

 

            “What  _happened_?!” Harry yelped, horrified at the sight of some five hundred or so Hogwarts students and professors, sprawled on tables and benches and the floor, not a one of them breathing. Every single one of them was dead, and almost all of them held a glass, or had it spilled beside them, or shattered on the flagstones beside them where they had fallen.

 

            “Based on appearances only,” Draco said slowly, “it appears that the entire school population has, en masse, poisoned themselves.”

 

            “This is like the People’s Temple all over again,” Harry said, horrified.

 

            “What?”

 

            “Muggles. 1978, about 900 of them all killed themselves by drinking cyanide laced sodas. It was religious.”

 

            “Well, if your silly Muggle books are any indication...” Draco had reached over the table, lifted the arm of a dead Ravenclaw girl - maybe fifth year - and pulled a thick, black covered book out from underneath her. “Say, Harry, ever read that Muggle ‘Bible’ book?”

 

            “A bit of it,” Harry said numbly, still staring at the death around him in shock. “My cousin Dudley had a copy of it in his second bedroom, and I’d sometimes read it when I was bored. I never really went with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia since it was just another place I could embarrass them...”

 

            “Ever read this here book, ‘Exodus’?”

 

            “Probably, why?”

 

            “Read the highlighted bit.” Draco turned the book around, so that Harry could see the open page.

 

            “‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’.... you’re kidding.”

 

            “I think little miss Ravenclaw here took her teaching a little too seriously,” Draco said lightly, lifting her arms again, and checking. “Look here. Potion burns on her wrists. She tainted the school water supply, I’d wager. Then probably put something in the food, so it would burn and everyone would need to take a drink...” He sneered, and let her arms drop back to the table. “And you wonder what my problem is with Muggleborn.”

 

            “But that... that’s.... that’s not  _normal_!” Harry protested, staring with wide, horrified eyes at the innocent looking - if dead - young woman.

 

            “Sure it isn’t, Potter,” Draco sneered, then sighed, his rancor for Harry pretty much now nonexistent. “Here, let’s see if we can find our bodies, shall we?”

 

            “You know how  _creepy_  that sounds?” Harry demanded, but followed the Slytherin, who was picking his way through the bodies.

 

            A few minutes later, they stood side by side, shaking their heads. “That’s sad,” Harry said firmly.

 

            “It’s also disgusting,” Draco added, glaring at their lifeless alternate bodies, which were tangled in what he was quite prepared to call a torrid embrace. “How  _Romeo & Juliet_ can one  _get_?”

 

            Harry shrugged. “‘Never was there a tale of more woe’?”

 

            “‘I see Queen Mab hath been with you,’” Draco snapped, then swept an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Let us anon.”

 

            “‘Parting is such sweet sorrow,’” Harry grinned.

 

            “‘Thou talk’st of nothing,’” Draco growled.

 

            They disappeared.

 

            


	32. Chapter 32

Track Change

 

Track Xi Zeta

 

            “You know, the Shakespeare joke was pathetic enough  _last_  time.”

 

            Harry kicked aside the empty bottles of “Drought of Living Death” and some kind of poison, looking at the stone dias and its two, still inhabitants with what could well be described as morbid fascination. “‘Two houses, both alike in dignity...’”

 

            “‘It is a tale told by an  _idiot_ ,’” Draco growled, looking very unimpressed as he glared over at Harry.

 

            “Wrong play,” Harry said with smug satisfaction, grinning. “That’s from the Scottish play. From the way the other me looks poisoned and  _you_  have that pretty big knife sticking out of your chest, I’d say that  _Macbeth_  is  _certainly_  the wrong play for the situation.”

 

            “I don’t know about that,” Draco said smoothly, silkily, turning to look with narrowed eyes at Harry. “Remember the line ‘Unsex me now’? Trust me Potter,  _it_   _can be arranged_.”

 

            Harry turned quite red, and took a wary step back. “That’s all right, really...”

 

            Draco snorted, then turned his attention back to the two dead bodies. “I would say that Draconius was very most likely here. I can’t see either of us reenacting the last act of  _Romeo & Juliet_ without his influence. This isn’t going to  _help_  us any though - none of these worlds have helped us, except the first one! We just keep arriving after everyone is dead, or after they’re already snogging in public places, or after they’ve tried to attack us. We haven’t managed to find anything useful at  _all_. There has to be a way to  _plan_  where we’re going to land!”

 

            “Well...” Harry said slowly, settling himself down to sit on a toppled gravestone not far from the stone sarcophagus their dead bodies lay on. “Did you hear that, last time we Apparated?”

 

            “Hear what?” Draco asked listlessly, lost in thought.

 

            “It sounded like... like a train whistle,” Harry said, sounding slightly unsure himself. “Like the Hogwart’s Express. I just caught it as we were Apparating here.”

 

            “You’re nutters,” Draco said calmly, raising an eyebrow.

 

            “Maybe,” Harry admitted softly, which made Draco look at him rather sharply. “But I’m sure I heard it. Maybe.... because of the potion, maybe we’d be able to concentrate on the moment  _between_  Disapparating and Apparating, and maybe we’d be able to figure out how exactly it is that Draconius is able to focus like he does.”

 

            “And risk getting splinched?” Draco scoffed.

 

            “Well, answer me  _this_ , Draco Malfoy,” Harry said firmly, bolting to his feet to stare the other down, fists clenched at his side. “If you don’t want to try my idea, go home then. But  _how are you going to find it_?”

 

            Draco paused, then his silver eyes widened. “Merlin... I don’t know.”

 

            “Exactly.” Harry sighed. “Now does my idea sound all right?”

 

            There was a moment of silence, then Draco spread his arms wide, like some kind of exaggerated martyr. He said nothing, but just waited, and moments later, Harry had pushed himself off the gravestone he’d claimed as his seat, and stepped up to almost within Draco’s reach. Emerald eyes watching silver, he only watched the blond, until Draco cocked his head slightly to the side, and smirked.

 

            “Scared, Potter?”

 

            A smirk of his own crossed Harry’s face, and he stepped forward, feeling the strong arms envelope him.

 

            “You wish.”


	33. Chapter 33

Track Change

 

Hogwarts Interdimensional Express - Station

 

            Harry and Draco stumbled onto the bare, wooden train platform, which floated in the middle of a sea of absolute nothingness. There was no sky, no ground, nothing. Everything beyond the long, narrow platform on which they stood and the silver train tracks with their wooden ties buried in nothing was just white. Pure, white, nothingness.

 

            “Where are we?” Harry asked warily, fingers unwittingly tangled in the front of Draco’s jumper.

 

            “On a train platform,” Draco said, slightly awed sounding. “Well, you were right. There really  _is_  a train. I wonder if this is what’s in between regular Apparation stages...?”

 

            There was a whistle, far off, the sound of a train approaching, then a fierce wind that made them both wince, Draco’s hand flying up to protect his eyes, and Harry’s head ducking down to bury his face in the taller boy’s sweater. When the wind died as abruptly as it had started, both slowly looked up, to discover that there was a scarlet steamer train - identical to the Hogwart’s Express they had taken to school together that fall - sitting there in the station in front of them, steam lazily curling from the stacks, and around the sleek scarlet sides. There was a slight hissing sound, and the door before them opened, though not outwards like it normally did, but sliding sideways, into the train.

 

            A pleasant, though slightly muffled, female voice intoned, “Welcome to the Hogwarts Interdimensional Express, now departing station. Next stop, track Tau Lambda Beta. Please mind the gap.”

 

            Harry gaped at the train. “It’s like the tube!” he yelped.

 

            “The what?” Draco asked, confused.

 

            “The tube. Muggle transportation - like a train in a tunnel, I guess. Some people call it the Underground. They always say that - mind the gap.”

 

            Draco just regarded the boy - still in his arms - with an arched eyebrow and not a small smidgen of disdain. “Muggles are incredibly bizarre.”

 

            “Yeah, I suppose.” Harry frowned, focused on the train still. “Do you suppose we should get on it?”

 

            “I suppose so,” Draco drawled, releasing Harry, then gently tugging on the other’s hands to encourage him to release the wool of his jumper. “Harry, I realize that I am irresistible, but can you manage to tear yourself off me long enough to get on the train?”

 

            “Huh?” Harry blinked, tearing his eyes off the train to look at Draco, then down, to where he still gripped the fabric. “Oh!” He yelped, yanking his hands back, ears red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

 

            “As I said, I already knew that you just couldn’t help yourself,” Draco smirked, then, laying a hand on Harry’s arm, half dragged him towards the train. “Mind the gap, now.”

 

            “Prat,” Harry muttered, stepping over the small gap and onto the train, the door sliding shut with a hiss the second he was through it. A moment later, the train began to move, until it seemed to be settled into the normal, Hogwarts Express pace, though the station was already long gone by the time it had.

 

            The inside of the train was not set up like the regular Express, but it instead seemed to be like the Muggle Underground, with benches that lined the sides of the large train car, shiny metal poles above their heads and spaced at handy distances for holding onto, should the train ever be full, though it seemed so eerily quiet that Harry had no idea whether that even  _could_  happen. Old, slightly faded advertisements lined the edges of the ceiling, their charms growing old and weak, so that every once in awhile, in a tired manner, another ancient slogan for “Bernie Bott’s”, or “Mellenamore’s Flying Carpets” would scroll across the banners. On a longish piece of yellowed parchment, right above the door on the opposite side of the train, faded black ink read, in scrolling letters, “Welcome to the Hogwarts Interdimensional Express.” Then below that, was an arrow pointing to a gold button, and the word “map” surrounded by little stars.

 

            Draco had settled himself on one of the seats near the door, arms and legs crossed, looking quite casual and comfortable, but Harry made his way to this strange gold button, which, after a moment’s hesitation, he pushed.

 

            Instantly, a parchment piece scrolled out from under the other, larger one, on which there was a highly complicated looking network of black lines going in every which direction and intersecting here, there, and everywhere. The only difference was, there were little glowing lights everywhere, most of them green, but a few here and there were red. Frowning, Harry looked around for some kind of legend, to tell him what colour meant what, but found instead a little square in the corner that read “Touch map to ask questions.”

 

            “Does this make any sense to you?” Harry asked, turning to look at the casually reclining blond.

 

            Slowly, as though it were a great inconvenience, Draco stood, and sauntered over to look at the map for a moment. “Isn’t it _obvious_?” He drawled. “You touch the map when you ask a question. It’ll answer.”

 

            Harry frowned, but decided to try Draco’s theory of things anyways. Touching his right hand’s fingertips to the parchment lightly, he paused for a moment, then asked, “What do the colours of the lights mean?”

 

            As though someone was standing beside him, listening, that slightly muffled female voice from the station spoke up. “Red lights signify stops that you have made. Green lights signify stations at which you have not stopped.”

 

            “Now,” Draco drawled lazily. “Doesn’t  _that_  make sense now, Harry?”

 

            “Yeah, it does.” Harry paused for a minute more, then asked softly, “Does Draconius use this train?”

 

            “There have been two Draconius’ on this train in its time, and one is currently in your company.” The voice answered crisply. It was a pleasant enough voice, Harry decided, but it still reminded him an awful lot of Professor McGonagall.

 

            “Does... does the other Draconius come on this train a lot?”

 

            “Regularly, yes.”

 

            “Which of the stops on the map has that Draconius been to?”

 

            “They are marked in yellow,” she said, and just as Harry was about to point out to her that there  _were_  no yellow dots on the map, Draco’s hand found Harry’s shoulder, and squeezed very tightly, as Draco pointed towards the map.

 

            At least  _half_  of the thousand some dots marked were now glowing yellow.

 

            Jaw hanging, Harry could only gape for a moment, then pushed, “And each one of these lights is a different world?”

 

            “A different possibility, yes.”

 

            Draco frowned, and reached forward to press his own fingertips on the map. “Explain, if you will?”

 

            “Every single one of the lights on this map represent a different possibility, a different choice made. For every major choice that happens in your world, a different possibility emerges. For this reason, there is never any secure way to determine exactly how many different possibilities there are to explore. This train is connected to all tracks.”

 

            “What...” Harry paused, considering. “Why are there so many possibilities?”

 

            “In 1943, an event of such cataclysmic proportions occurred that the magic of Hogwarts itself attempted to rectify the situation, using the same basic principles of a time turner. However, the situation was not rectified; instead, the spell created an unexpected new possibility. With the assistance of Transfiguration professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet, Hogwarts was able to contain the possibility created, in a new world. The Hogwarts Interdimensional Express was created as a method of reaching the other possibility. However, what the Headmaster and Hogwarts itself were unable to predict was the continual creation of new possibilities.”

 

            “So you mean Dumbledore doesn’t  _know_  there is more than one possibility?” Harry gaped at the map, then turned to look at Draco, who looked as confused and surprised as he did.

 

            “In all likelihood.”

 

            “What spawned this?” Draco asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What made Hogwarts attempt to fix something like that?”

 

            “In the spring of 1943, during his fifth year attending Hogwarts, Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

 

            Harry took a startled step back, his back making solid contact with one of the metal poles in the middle of the floor. His eyes wide, he stared, unseeing, at the white nothingness whizzing past the windows, hands gripping so tightly to the pole his knuckles were white.

 

            Draco stared at him warily. He wasn’t sure what exactly would make Harry have this extreme a reaction. After all, so someone found a way to open the Chamber of Secrets. Not such a... wait... wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin the only one who could  _open_  the Chamber? And the Heir was...

 

            Draco sat down heavily, on one of the battered white plastic seats, eyes wide.

 

            “The Dark Lord,” he murmured, blinking.

 

            Harry nodded once, swallowing. “Voldemort.”

 

            They remained in silence for a very long time, the only sound the soft sound of wind passing the windows, and the steady muffled rhythm of the wheels of the train. The silence was only broken otherwise by the sporadic blowing of the whistle, until suddenly Harry lurched forward, startling Draco as he grabbed for the map, gripping the edges tightly. “Does that mean there is a world out there where Tom Riddle  _did not_  open the Chamber of Secrets?”

 

            “Yes,” the voice said calmly.

 

            “A world  _without_  Voldemort?” Harry pressed.

 

            “Several,” she answered. “Assuming, however, that you are referring to the original world that spawned the rest of them, yes. There is no Voldemort in that world.” 

 

            Draco slowly stood, trying to catch Harry’s eye. Harry, however, could only gape at the map, half disbelieving. Reaching forward himself, Draco touched the map lightly, and said softly, “What track number is that world? That first one?”

 

            “Track Omega,” the voice said calmly.

 

            “And the other world? The one that started it all? The one where Riddle  _did_  open the Chamber?”

 

            “That is track Alpha.”

 

            A sudden, sinking feeling sunk Draco’s stomach. “Which track are we from?”

 

            “Track Alpha.”

 

            Draco stepped back, taking his hands off the map. “Harry... we’re from the original world. The one every other world is spun off of. Every major choice people make in  _our_  world makes another world.”

 

            “And Draconius knows how to get into this train, how to find specific tracks, and then to manipulate the people within.” Harry closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath. Reaching forward, he placed his fingers on the map again, and asked, “Can you tell us which was the last place the other Draconius was? Not whichever one he’s in now, if he is, but which one he last left?”

 

            There was a moment of silence, then the voice answered, “He has left track Beta only a short while ago.”

 

            “Track Beta.” Harry nodded. “Is it possible... to go to track Beta?”

 

            “Certainly,” the voice answered, and a moment later, the train screeched to a halt, nearly throwing both of them from their seats. “Track Beta,” she said cheerfully, and the door slid open.

 

            Instead of facing the absolute nothingness that continued to surround the rest of the train, the door opened up onto what appeared to be a very cozy looking sitting room, with several comfortable arm chairs, a fireplace with a cheerfully crackling fire, and stacks of books -  _everywhere_. When their eyes adjusted a little, they realized that sitting in the room, on the excessively long sofa, were....  _them_. Well, their alternate selves. They were both reading, and obviously didn’t notice the train.

 

            Slowly, both boys picked themselves up off the bench and floor they had fallen to, and stepped towards the door. Before they actually did, though, Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, holding him back. “Are you sure we just want to run in there?”

 

            Harry frowned, considering the fact that these two obviously couldn’t hear them, or the train. “You’re right. We should wait and see what they’re going to do.”

 

            “Then we’ll need a place to hide,” Draco pointed out, and apparently though their voices didn’t spread beyond the train, their wishes  _did_ , because suddenly a huge, four poster, curtained bed appeared behind the couch, directly between themselves and their alternate selves. It was the perfect thing to hide behind.

 

            “Hmm.” Harry frowned. “Must be the Room of Requirement. Well... ready?”

 

            Draco frowned, looking into the room, then glanced back into the train, and the glowing lights on the map. “Yes.”

 

            They stepped out of the door, hearing it slid closed behind them, but not before they heard, slightly more muffled than usual, the woman’s voice:

 

            “Mind the gap!”


	34. Chapter 34

Track Change

 

Track Beta

 

            Draco’s head snapped up. “Did you hear something?”

 

            Harry looked up from his book, frowning. “No. What did you hear?”

 

            Looking around, Draco didn’t see anything, but that didn’t really mean anything. “Do you see Draconius?”

 

            “No...” Harry said slowly, but stood anyway, and looked around. “Malfoy, why’s there a bed?”

 

            “What?”

 

            “It’s the Room of Requirement. It chooses to furnish itself with whatever you require. We don’t need a bed, and it certainly wasn’t there when we came in earlier.”

 

            “Draconius, I knew it,” Draco hissed, clenching his fists. “We’re  _not_  going to give in to your sadistic match making, you lousy imposter!”

 

            “Thank you, Merlin!” Another voice said, then, “Oops. Ow, Harry!”

 

            Upon hearing that familiar voice, Harry darted forward, and ripped back the curtains on the four poster bed that had appeared unbidden in the room.

 

            While both boys had been secretly suspecting to see Draconius crouched behind the bed, they were unprepared to see him dressed in a black cloak and regular emerald jumper, rubbing at his upper arm and glaring at another Harry, who was very flushed, and glaring at him. Of course, upon realizing that they had been spotted, both boys blanched, and backed away from the bed very, very slowly.

 

            “Please don’t jump me,” the other Harry said warily, his hands creeping up to cover his face a little.

 

            “ _Jump_  you?!”Harry repeated in disbelief, then turned to look at Draco. “You really  _need_  to see this, Malfoy.”

 

            “Quit ordering me - sweet Merlin!” Draco gaped at the two of them in disbelief. “You’re not Draconius!”

 

            “Well...” the other Draco frowned. “I’m  _a_  Draconius, but not  _the_  Draconius.” He looked back and forth between them warily. “Neither of you is going to jump us if we stand up, correct?”

 

            “Why would we  _jump_  you?!” Harry yelped, looking almost frantic. This was the  _second_  time one of them had expressed the fear of being jumped by them - why in Merlin’s sake would they  _do_  that?!

 

            “With what  _we’ve_  seen,” the other Harry muttered, then stood, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, this is not...”

 

            He paused at their expressions. Harry and Draco had both frozen, mouths agape, eyes wide. They had just seen the  _last_  thing they ever expected - when this other Harry had pushed his hair back off his forehead, he had revealed his forehead. And on his forehead, as plain as you please, was a scar that both of them had seen many times, but neither had expected to see on  _that_  forehead.

 

            “What?”

 

            “You... you’re...” Draco was, for probably the first time in his life, at a complete lose for words.

 

            “What?” the other Draco asked, looking warily at the alternate Harry’s face. “We didn’t  _lose_  something on the trip over, did we?”

 

            “...scar...” Harry croaked.

 

            “Scar...?” the alternate Harry repeated slowly, then realization dawned in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Scar. What’s the big deal? You’ve got it too, don’t you?”

 

            Harry could only shake his head quickly.

 

            “Wait...” alternate Draco frowned, staring at him. “You  _don’t_  have the scar? You’re  _not_  The Boy Who Lived?”

 

            “What?” Draco snorted. “Potter, the Boy Who Lived?! Give me a break! That’s even more laughable than  _Longbottom_ , the Boy Who Lived!”

 

            “ _Neville_  is the  _Boy Who Lived_?!” alternate Harry gasped, looking almost horrified. “ _Neville Longbottom_?!”

 

            “HA!” The other Draco roared with laughter, throwing his head back, clutching at his stomach as he slowly sank to sit on the edge of the bed, still roaring with almost hysterical laughter. “Oh Merlin...” he panted, still laughing, laughter tears appearing at the corners of his eyes. “Now  _that_  is poetic justice...  _Neville Longbottom, Boy Who Lived_?! Merlin...”

 

            Alternate Harry gaped at them. “ _Neville._  You’re not kidding.”

 

            “No...” Harry said slowly. “Why would I  _joke_  about that?”

 

            “My God,” alternate Harry muttered, and sat down - hard - beside the alternate Draco, who was still softly laughing, apparently not finished with his hilarious assessment of the situation. “Oh Merlin....  _Sirius_.”

 

            “What about him?” Harry asked, confused.

 

            “Is... is he alive?”

 

            Harry drew in a sharp breath. “ _What_?! Of course he’s - what are you  _talking about_?!”

 

            The alternate Harry’s eyes closed, and for a moment, he said nothing, just breathing heavily, gnawing on his lip. “Pettigrew _didn’t_  betray him?  _Didn’t_   betray your parents?”

 

            “Professor Pettigrew?” Draco asked, looking confused. “Why would he betray his fellow Gryffindors?”

 

            “ _Professor_  - ?” the alternate Draco gasped, stopping laughing abruptly. “The rat is a  _professor_?!”

 

            “You know about...?!” Harry gasped, looking back and forth between the two horror-struck alternate selves. “What are you _talking_  about, betrayed?!”

 

            Alternate Harry let out a slow, shaky breath. “He didn’t betray my parents here... he’s not a Deatheater here... Sirius didn’t go to _prison_  here... oh... oh.... you have no idea,  _no idea_  how lucky you are.”

 

            “What...?” Harry started, but his alternate self held up a hand to stop his comments, his eyes glittering with unshed tears.

 

            “Trust me. You have  _no idea_.”

 

            Draco glared at the pair of them, his alternate self who had been nearly wetting himself with laughter, and this other Harry looking absolutely broad sided. “So if you  _aren’t_  Draconius, and neither of you are  _connected_  to Draconius, what are you doing here?”

 

            “Trying to find out what exactly it is Draconius wants,” alternate Draco answered, sitting up, wiping at his eyes, so that moments later, you would never know that he nearly lost control laughing a few moments before. “We duplicated the potion Draconius uses, only improved upon. At least, we  _thought_  it was improved upon... we haven’t had a lot of luck with  _finding_  him or why he’s doing this, thus far.”

 

            “We have found several other places where Draconius is though,” alternate Harry said softly, still looking thoughtful at the thought that Sirius was alive, though Harry found that thought disturbing. He didn’t know what he’d  _do_  if he didn’t have Sirius. Sirius had raised him after all, what with his parents in St. Mungo’s.

 

            “Wait... several other places?” Draco blinked at the two of them. “If it weren’t for the fact that we’ve been seeing Draconius for several months, I probably would have hexed you on sight, thinking you were trying to copy us. But now you’re starting to make me wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have done that right off the start, in any case. What by Merlin are you  _talking_ about?”

 

            Alternate Draco sighed. “This will take awhile to explain. Sit.”

 

            They sat.

 

            Alternate Harry stared at his folded hands for a moment, then looked up, pinning Harry and Draco with his emerald eyes. His mother’s eyes. “Where we’re from... I am the Boy Who Lived. I defeated Voldemort as an infant, and have been forced to face him almost every year I’ve been in school since. This year... it’s our seventh year, and within the first few days of the year, Draconius began appearing, trying to affect us in  _some_  way, but we had no idea how, or why. So when he revealed a few details that allowed us to copy the potion he had created so as to allow him to bounce between dimensions... we copied it. We wanted to be able to find out  _what_  and _why_  he was doing.”

 

            “Thus far,” the other Draco took up the tale at this point. “We haven’t been able to figure out what Draconius’ purposes are yet. We  _have_  discovered  _how_  he’s doing this, and we have managed to figure out why there are so many different worlds anyway. It’s all off of decisions.”

 

            “Decisions?” Harry repeated, confused.

 

            “There’s a prophesy, did you know that?” the other Harry asked, drawing their attention back to himself. “About who can defeat Voldemort.”

 

            “So, in  _your_  world... it was you?” Harry asked, shocked, frankly.

 

            “No... there were two people that could defeat him, according to the prophesy. In our world, Voldemort chose to believe that  _I_ was the one to fulfil that prophesy. In your world... it looks like he chose to believe it was Neville. And that’s where the difference lies.”

 

            There was a long moment of silence, then the other Draco, from where he sat next to the alternate Harry, spoke up. “I didn’t know there was a  _prophesy_  about you, too.”

 

            The other Harry snorted lightly. “Yeah. I just found out in fifth year, Dumbledore’s been trying to keep it all hush-hush. I shouldn’t have told you all, technically, but...” he shook his head. “This is just so  _bizarre_.”

 

            “So you don’t know what Draconius wants?” Draco spoke up, crossing his arms. “I’ll tell you. He wants  _us_  to kiss. He told us so.”

 

            “Urg,” the alternate Draco sneered, curling his lip. “How disgusting.”

 

            Both Harrys rolled their eyes.

 

            “That does seem to be the same as the other worlds we’ve been to,” the other Harry shrugged. “Seems Draconius has got that in mind for a lot of us. We still don’t know  _why_  though.”

 

            “You think he’s working on multiple worlds at once?” Harry asked, frowning.

 

            “Possible,” the alternate Draco answered, tapping his bottom lip with his index thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t put him above it. Though he  _does_  seem to be veiling his intentions far more with us than with you. He has  _never_  suggested we should kiss. Did tell us we didn’t realize what it was we had right in front of us, however, so I suppose that easily fits into that category. I wonder why his is different... maybe that has something to do with why he’s doing this?”

 

            “Well, he did tell us that there is no Dumbledore where he’s from, and that the Dark Lord situation is different. He is a Death Eater.” The Harry from track Alpha mused thoughtfully.

 

            “He’s a  _Death Eater_?” Draco asked, surprised. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”

 

            “Well, we  _don’t_  know why he’s doing this, remember, besides the fact that he told us he was attempting to redeem his soul,” the Alpha Draco pointed out. “I believe we should try to go onto the next last place Draconius has been, and see if the individuals there can’t tell us what he is trying to do.”

 

            “But... Draco...” Alpha Harry said slowly, glancing over at them. “They don’t have the potion, and we  _really_  don’t have the time to brew a new batch.”

 

            “Potion?” Draco repeated. “What potion? We could get Professor Snape to assist.”

 

            “No!” Alpha Harry said quickly, then flushed when they stared at him in surprise.

 

            “It’s just not a good idea,” Alpha Draco broke in. “We have been trying to avoid involving Professor Snape in this potion, and I can’t imagine it would be a good idea to have him involved here, too.”

 

            “Why?” Harry asked, confused. “I mean, I  _know_  he’s a greasy, hateful, git, but... why not involve him at all? He did tell us to let him know if we found anything out, and frankly,  _you_  showing up here kind of rates as ‘anything’.”

 

            “Yes, but...” Alpha Harry paused, frowned, then crossed his arms, turning to look at Alpha Draco. “You never explained to  _me_ why we weren’t going to Snape for help.  _You_  explain it.”

 

            Alpha Draco raised a single eyebrow. “The man’s a Death Eater. In my  _humble_  opinion,” he drawled the ‘humble’, making it very clear that he was in actual fact anything  _but_ , “That does not sound like the most intelligent group to go to for advice. Especially not with the very distinct possibility that Harry may be able to use this potion’s effect to finally get that sick half-blood posing as some pure-blood savior out of our lives.”

 

            There were a few moments of silence, then Alpha Harry spoke up. “Snape is a double agent for Dumbledore. He’s a spy, posing as a Death Eater.”

 

            Another moment lacking in motion, then Alpha Draco responded quite simply.

 

            “Oh.”

 

            “Yeah. Oh.” Alpha Harry snorted, and lightly jabbed the other’s rib with his elbow. “Makes me happy to hear you’re concerned about me though,  _Draaacooo_...”

 

            Draco and Harry exchanged sideways glances as Alpha Draco flushed, jumping back from the brunette. “You are nutters, Potter. Stay  _away_  from me, I don’t want to catch your insane Muggle disease...”

 

            To the other’s alarm, Alpha Harry got an almost wolfish grin, and bent forward for a moment. “Don’t want to catch my Muggle disease?”

 

            “No, I don’t,” Alpha Draco sneered, looking as arrogant as usual, but at the same time, he was very slowly leaning back and away from him, looking alarmed.

 

            “Too bad!” Alpha Harry crowed, and pounced. Ignoring the blond’s yelp of horror, he pushed him back onto the bed they were sitting on, until he was literally straddling the Slytherin’s chest, bent forward enough that his nose almost touched the other’s, still grinning. “So, Draco,” Alpha Harry purred. “Suppose you’ll be getting my diseased Muggle-ness now?”

 

            “Get off me!” Alpha Draco yelped, shoving at the other, alarmed, but the Gryffindor just laughed, and leaned down just a little further to rub his nose back and forth across the other’s in an Eskimo kiss.

 

            “Off!” Alpha Draco roared, shoving hard enough to throw himself up into a sitting position, Alpha Harry sliding off his chest and with a thunk, landing on his rear on Alpha Draco’s lap. He probably would have kept on sliding off into a painful thump onto the ground had Alpha Draco not instinctively grabbed at his arms, keeping him in place.

 

            Roaring with laughter, Alpha Harry poked dramatically at Alpha Draco’s chest. “You’re cute when you’re trying to kill me.”

 

            Letting out a sound of disgust, Alpha Draco shoved at the other, pushing him onto the floor with a small crash. Ignoring the continuing laughter, he brushed off his robes, picked a few pieces of invisible lint off of his sweater, then turned back to Harry and Draco, frowning aristocratically. “What were we discussing?”

 

            “This potion,” Draco answered, quite willing to put that display out of his mind as quickly as possible. 

 

            “Ah, yes.” Alpha Draco nodded, and reached into his robes, removing a very small vial, apparently with a anti-breakage charm on it, or it probably would have broken with the way Alpha Harry had been rough housing. “There’s no need to even worry about Professor Snape and his alliances, in any case. I have enough for about twenty-five, possibly thirty dosages here.”

 

            “What?!” Alpha Harry squacked, sitting bolt upright from where he had landed laying on the floor. “But I scourgified the cauldron!”

 

            “And you think I would have  _let_  you do that without having gathered a vial beforehand?” Alpha Draco asked, arching a single brow. “Honestly. Maximalimust.”

 

            The vial expanded in size until it was roughly the size of a Muggle thermos, and Alpha Draco carefully unscrewed the top, letting out the rather vile scent of the potion. Gagging slightly, he frowned, and said, “We’ll need a couple of glasses.”

 

            A slight tinkle sounded beside him, and Harry leaned forward, scooping the two glasses the Room of Requirement had supplied off the bed. “What do we need to do?”

 

            “Well, first off,” Alpha Draco frowned. “Can either of you Apparate?”

 

            “I can,” Draco nodded.

 

            “But you can’t Apparate on Hogwart’s grounds anyway,” Harry interjected. “It’s in...”

 

            “Hogwarts: a History,” Alpha Harry interrupted, grinning. “Trust me, I said the same thing. It’ll work.”

 

            “Okay.... Draco....” Alpha Draco looked slightly unimpressed with having to say that, since really,  _he_  was Draco - why should he have to refer to anyone else that way? “We need two of your hairs.”

 

            “Two of my hairs?” Draco repeated, looking startled. “Why mine?”

 

            “Because I already gave up two of mine, and it’s  _your_  turn,” Alpha Draco responded, arching a single eyebrow.

 

            “Why not mine, or his?” Harry asked, pointing at Alpha Harry, who was now lounging with his knees up at his chest, arms crossed over the tops of his knees, regarding them. “Why yours?”

 

            “Because we’re attempting to track  _Draconius_  with it, not another Harry Potter,” Alpha Draco pointed out, rolling his eyes. “It’s obvious.”

 

            Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse  _me_ , Mr. I’m-a-perfect-pureblood-Slytherin-too-good-to-accept-Gryffindors.”

 

            “Damn straight,” Alpha Draco said calmly, pouring two dosages of potion into the glasses. Draco, having just severed them with a simple charm, dropped a hair in each glass, then took the offered beakers, passing one to Harry.

 

            “Alright,” Alpha Draco nodded curtly.

 

            “Drink.”


	35. Chapter 35

Track Change

 

Track Gamma

 

            “I was just thinking that...” Gamma Harry froze, fingers curling around the edge of the book he was holding so hard his knuckles went white.

 

            Gamma Draco leapt to his feet, dropping the book he’d been holding, and snatching up his wand. “You felt it too?”

 

            “I don’t think that’s just Draconius,” Gamma Harry hissed, his own wand out and at the ready in an instant. “It felt like there was more than one... of _both_  of us. Is that even possible?”

 

            “We’ve already managed to prove that there’s more than one of me, why not both?” Gamma Draco hissed, frowning as he scanned the dusty living room of the Shrieking Shack. “We know you’re there,” he called out to the room. “Show yourself!”

 

            There was another moment of silence, then a black haired head peered over the back of the tattered couch in the corner. “Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter?”

 

            “Who wants to know?” Gamma Harry growled, eyes narrowed at the strangely familiar top half of a head.

 

            There was a sigh, then the other stood up, followed by three others. It was supremely bizarre, to see  _two_  Harry Potters and _two_  Draco Malfoys standing behind that ancient, decripited couch, not to mention the fact that there were one more of each in the room!

 

            “This is... odd.” Gamma Draco admitted at last.

 

            “No kidding,” Alpha Harry sighed, scratching behind his ear. “Err... look, this may sound really weird, but we’re trying to prove something.”

 

            “Might we guess, from the fact that you’ve not yet attempted to kill us, you  _have_  seen something like this before? Possibly in the form of Draconius Malfoy?” Alpha Draco spoke up, crossing his arms.

 

            “Yes,” Gamma Harry nodded. “We’ve seen Draconius. Did he  _tell_  you... about all of us?”

 

            Beta Draco sneered. “Well, that would make life much easier. Did he tell  _you_  two to start making out too?”

 

            “Urg,” Gamma Draco sneered. “That would be like incest.”

 

            There were some arched eyebrows at that. At the other’s odd expressions, Gamma Harry pointed out, “Draco and I are practically brothers. The idea that anyone would want us to start making out is just... rather repulsive.”

 

            “Are you implying that I would be repulsive to kiss?” Gamma Draco said mildly, but his expression suggested something other than that mildness.

 

            “Well... no, it’s just...” Gamma Harry pulled a face. “It’s just that your parents might as well be  _my_ parents! It would just be kind of creepy!”

 

            “Look, this is kind of getting off track,” Alpha Harry spoke up again. “Has Draconius, in any way, told you  _why_  he’s here and what he’s after?”

 

            “No, but we’re not sure why,” Gamma Harry started, only to be interrupted by another voice.

 

            “Because I didn’t want to you to do something  _stupid_!” Another voice shouted, and every single one of the boys in the room jumped.

 

            Spinning, they all stared, in horror, to find another Draco - this one really and  _truly_ Draconius - standing, silhouetted by the fading setting sun, in the doorway into the shack, wearing a full black cloak, eyes hard and narrow. “Did you think I wouldn’t  _notice_  that the train had been used? That I wouldn’t  _see_  the four of you climbing onto the train?!”

 

            “Actually,” Beta Draco said lightly. “No, we didn’t.”

 

            Draconius sneered. “So what are you trying to do? Trying to thwart me? Trying to destroy all my plans for you?”

 

            “Why shouldn’t we make our  _own_  plans?!” Alpha Harry demanded, frowning.

 

            Draconius’ eyes narrowed, and for a moment, there was silence, then suddenly, a smirk grew across his face. “You can’t be trusted to make your own plans, Harry. None of you can. Not you, or you, or you.”

 

            He giggled.

 

            The Harrys and Dracos began exchanging concerned looks. Was it just them, or was Draconius just...  _slightly_  off his rocker?

 

            “Obviously you can’t be trusted to make your own plans. Look what  _happens_  when you make your  _own_  plans. You don’t listen to reason, you don’t take anyone’s advice... instead you conspire to subvert the expert plans of the one man who knows what’s going on... so I suppose I shall have... to  _help_  you... for good. Expellimarius!”

 

            It was like dominoes spilling, the way three Dracos and three Harrys were thrown back, landing with crashes and sickening bone-crunching sounds against walls and decrepit furniture that really didn’t need the extra strain, snapping some of the furniture like matchsticks.

 

            And unexpectedly, he snapped out his wand arm, and snapped, “Accio Harry!”

 

            Letting out gasps of horror, all three of the Harrys were dragged across the floor, as though there were invisible hands gripping their shirt collars, dragging them through the thick layer of dust, pulling them steadily towards Draconius.

 

            “Harry!” Alpha Draco yelled, lunging forward and trying to catch Harry’s ankle, but he was caught up by his ankle twisting in the legs of the dining room chair he had broken when thrown back by Draconius’ spell. Falling to his knees, he let out a hiss of pain, then grabbed his wand from where it had fallen, pushing up off his hands.

 

            “Oh no,” Draconius sneered. “You  _had_  your chance. And you didn’t act. You didn’t even realize what was right in front of you... and now it isn’t even going to be there for you to take for granted!”

 

            And just like that, Draconius -  _and_  all three Harrys - were gone.

 

            Just like that.

 

            “No!” Gamma Draco wailed in horror, scrambling to his feet, rushing forward, only to pause right where his alternate self had stood only moments before. “Oh Merlin...” he gasped, eyes wide and unseeing as he stood, hands shaking. “He... he’s gone. Harry is... is gone.” He swallowed, turning slowly to look at the other two blonds, who were staring back at him with equally horrified expressions. “He... he... he took Harry!”

 

            Switching gears abruptly, Gamma Draco spun, snatched up one of the old dining room chairs that had  _not_  been demolished by their being thrown back, and threw it with all the force he could muster at the far wall. The chair - and a good portion of the wall itself - was soon in pieces. “Little fucking wanker!” He roared. “He had no  _right_  to take my Harry! No bleeding right! He is going to  _pay_  for that!”

 

            Alpha Draco, who had by this point managed to push himself to his feet, limped over to Gamma Draco’s side. “I think we might have a solution.”

 

            Fists clenched tightly at his sides, breathing harshly through his teeth, Gamma Draco fixed a cold silver glare on the other. “What.” It was not said as though it were a question.

 

            “How do you feel about giving up a couple of your hairs?”


	36. Chapter 36

Track Change

 

Hogwarts Interdimensional Express

 

            “What do you  _mean_ , he’s been to over fifty stations in the past ten minutes?” Alpha Draco snapped, fingernails almost digging into the brittle old parchment of the map.

 

            “Draconius Malfoy from track Tau Omicron Eta has visited approximately fifty tracks since you left the station a few short minutes ago,” the tinned female voice said calmly, apparently unconcerned by the fact that there were three Dracos in her train, running the gamut of emotions from mildly concerned to furious to insanely stark raving mad. “In every case, when he returns to the Express, he brings with him another Harry Potter.”

 

            Alpha Draco leaned back heavily against the wall, horrified. “Well... where is he taking them?”

 

            There was a moment’s silence, then: “I am not certain. I have not seen where precisely he is going.”

 

            “How could you not...” Beta Draco frowned, then stood, and reached forward to touch the map. “How could you not know where he is going?”

 

            “He is leaving the station, then taking them somewhere else, via the Room of Requirement. I do not know where he is taking them.”

 

            “Fucker,” Gamma Draco snarled, slamming his fist down on the weathered white plastic seat beside him. “So what do we do _now_?!”

 

            “We...” Alpha Draco frowned, pausing for a moment, then straightened, smirk growning slightly on his pale face. “We created the potion, originally, to track Draconius. We had no idea in the beginning that it would allow us access to this train. We didn’t even know it existed. So think about it - we can use that potion to track Draconius. It’ll be as simple as that, really. We just  _follow_  him!”

 

            Beta Draco frowned. “Is that possible?”

 

            Alpha Draco sighed. “It’s possible. We might as well  _try_.”

 

            “We need to try  _something_ ,” Gamma Draco snapped once. “Let’s go.”

 

            Moments later, three Draco Malfoys faltered off of an interdimensional train that  _did_ , admittably, warn them to avoid the slightly dangerous gap, and stumbled into a room that looked remarkably like the Slytherin Common Room.

 

            Moments later, Alpha Draco was against a wall with a wand in his throat, a furious Omicron Zeta Draco in his face. “What did you do with him you bastard?!”

 

            “I think we missed Draconius,” Beta Draco said lightly, leaning against the wall beside where Alpha Draco was pinned. “Draco Malfoy, I presume?”

 

            “Wha - the hell?!”

 

            “Essentially our reaction in a nutshell,” Beta Draco nodded. “He stole your Harry, didn’t he?”

 

            Slowly, Omicron Zeta Draco stepped back, lowering his wand. “Yes. I don’t know why - we did everything he told us to, we searched the vault, we found the documents he was talking about, we even managed to break the  _vigneti et vigneti_  charm on Harry... I don’t understand why he did this.”

 

            “Harry has a  _vigneti et vigneti_  charm on him?” Alpha Draco frowned, rubbing his neck. “Hmm. Wouldn’t have expected that.”

 

            “That’s not the  _point_ ,” Gamma Draco snarled, then nodded once, curtly, to Alpha Draco. “Give him the potion.”

 

            “What potion?” Omicron Zeta Draco asked, snapping his head back to look at the other.

 

            Alpha Draco reached into his cloak. “I’m going to need your hair.”


	37. Chapter 37

Track Change

 

Hogwarts Interdimensional Express

 

            “It’s kind of crowded now,” Beta Draco muttered, looking around the - indeed - crowded Hogwarts Interdimensional Express.

 

            “What  _was_  the point of just letting every single one we encountered come along?” Alpha Draco sighed, kneading at his temples. He wouldn’t have  _normally_ done that, not with this many people around... but they were all  _him_ , so in a way, it was also like he was alone. Which was bizarre to even think about, much less witness, but that was hardly the point at the moment.

 

            “They are going to help us retrieve Harry from that  _madman_ ,” Gamma Draco pointed out, pacing two steps, then spinning on his heel, pacing two steps back, then repeating the whole process all over again. It was about all the room he had for pacing. “And they all wanted to come. They all want him back too, obviously.”

 

            The Sigma Lambda Delta version of the Malfoy heir leaned over, and lightly tapped Alpha Draco’s arm. “But we haven’t found Draconius yet. How many more dimensions do you think we need to check before we can find where he’s  _hidden_  Harry?”

 

            “I don’t know,” Alpha Draco admitted with regret, then paused, shaking his head. “I am slightly disturbed by the fact that looking at you is like finding out what I would have looked like were I not born with the blessed good fortune to be male.”

 

            She smirked - and it was  _obviously_  the same Malfoy smirk all the other Dracos here could wear with equal ease - and batted her long, dark lashes. “And don’t you think you’d have made a darling cute girl, dear? Harry has always thought so.”

 

            Alpha Draco shuddered, shaking his head. “Okay, that’s just creepy.”

 

            “I’m not sure why you feel that way,” Iota Alpha Draco added, from where he stood, holding onto the metal pole above their heads. “After all, I don’t even have a  _Harry_ , I have a Harriet.”

 

            “And I have a Henrietta,” the skirted, still smirking Xi Epsilon Draculine pointed out.

 

            “It could be worse,” Phi Delta Draco grumbled, from where he sat near the door, hand resting on his large abdomen. “At least none of you are  _pregnant_.”

 

            “My Harry’s pregnant,” Psi Mu Theta Draco pointed out. “And he’s gorgeous that way, because it’s  _my_  heir.”

 

            “This is  _not_  getting us anywhere,” Gamma Draco stopped his pacing long enough to reach out and place his hand flat against the map. “Have you been able to find out where Draconius has  _gone_  with the Harrys yet?”

 

            “Yes,” the woman’s voice said, and all other conversation in the previously quite bustling train car stopped dead.

 

            “Well?” Gamma Draco demanded, impatient.

 

            “Draconius has returned to his own dimension with the Harrys.”

 

            Alpha Draco reached out, touching the map. “He has gone back to Tau Omicron Eta?! With  _all_  the Harrys?!”

 

            “Yes,” the map, the train... whichever it was... confirmed.

 

            “Then let’s go!” Gamma Draco said, grinning almost manically.

 

            “Wait.” Beta Draco said quickly, and nearly a hundred blond heads turned to look at him. Raising a single eyebrow - it wasn’t like a  _Malfoy_  was going to be embarrassed at all that attention - he reached out to touch the map, then asked, “What is it that makes Tau Omicron Eta  _different_  from track Alpha?”

 

            Gamma Draco let out a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. “That is completely irrelevant.”

 

            “Hardly,” Beta Draco pointed out. “If we can’t figure out what it is that makes this so  _different_ , we’re not going to be able to solve this. We won’t be able to stop Draconius from just... doing this again, if we can’t figure out how to stop him.”

 

            “We can kill him,” Chi Mu Epsilon Draco pointed out.

 

            There was a moment of silence for everyone to consider that one, then Beta Draco pointed out, “Effective solution, but who knows? There could be something less... messy. Let’s just... find out what the map has to say?”

 

            “Alright,” Alpha Draco nodded. “Try it.”

 

            Beta Draco leaned forward, touched the map, and tried again.

 

            “In every other possibility,” the map said calmly, “In some way, Voldemort’s attack on Harry Potter when he was a year old had a different result. Maybe he chose not to kill him in the end, maybe the spell rebounded, perhaps he chose to attempt to kill Neville Longbottom instead. In fact, out of all the possibilities, in only  _one_  did Voldemort  _succeed_  in attempting to kill Harry Potter.”

 

            “Tau Omicron Eta...” Gamma Draco said slowly.

 

            “That’s why he’s doing it...” Beta Draco breathed. “Because he  _doesn’t_  have a Harry Potter in his world. And he’s so desperate to fix that, that he’s been trying to set every other Draco up with every other Harry.”

 

            Alpha Draco let out a long breath, eyes wide. “‘You don’t even know what you have’...”

 

            Eta Draco - the one whose Harry was two years older and the seeker for the English Quidditch team - sat down heavily, actually landing on Rho Kappa Theta Draco’s lap. “He never told us that... he told us almost everything else, he showed us everything, he really set us up...and... and he never mentioned...”

 

            There was another long moment of silence, then Alpha Draco put fingers to parchment again. “Is there a track...  _without_  a Draco Malfoy?”

 

            “Track Rho Eta has no Draco Malfoy.” The voice said calmly.

 

            “And... has Tau Omicron Eta Draconius been there?” Alpha Draco pressed.

 

            “No.”

 

            “Is he aware of it?!”

 

            “No.”

 

            “We... we need to go to Tau Omicron Eta!  _Now_!” Gamma Draco snapped, and suddenly, the doors to the side of the train slide open.

 

            On the other side, stood Draconius, arms draped casually behind his back, smiling like a mad man. And behind him... were at least a hundred different versions of Harry Potter, staring warily at the train.

 

            “Welcome, to my world.”


	38. Chapter 38

Track Change

 

Track Tau Omicron Eta

 

            “Oh, don’t be shy...” Draconius purred, smirking. “Do come on out. Come into my world, please. I want you to see it.”

 

            The room he was standing in looked oddly familiar to a few of the Dracos in the Express. It was dark, dank, damp, and was decorated everywhere with large statues of snakes, and flickering torches. Directly behind Draconius, looking very menacing, was a statue of a giant head - Salazar Slytherin’s head, to be precise. They were, in other words, in Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets. The very Chamber of Secrets whose opening had, really, when you got right down to it, caused all these problems in the first place.

 

            Swallowing, Alpha Draco turned to look at the others. “I think... we should listen to him, if we’re going to get Harry back.”

 

            At that, Draconius laughed again. “And which Harry were you looking for, Draco? Because they’re all mine.  _Mine_.”

 

            “Like shit they are,” Gamma Draco growled, and stepped off the train with complete determination. “Give him  _back_.”

 

            “Ha,” Draconius snorted, tossing his head back, laughing. He started to speak, even as the other Dracos began to pour out of the train as well, slowly sneaking in amongst the Harrys, which, for some very odd reason... were not moving. “I suppose you asked the Express what was going on with Tau Omicron Eta? Well, I’ll tell you.”

 

            “We already know,” Beta Draco snapped. For some reason, Alpha, Beta and Gamma Dracos had become the almost unofficial spokesmen for the rest of the Dracos, but it might have just been because they were the first three to find the way onto the Express, and together, they stood as a trio in front of Draconius.

 

            “No, no you don’t.” Draconius sneered. “Tau Omicron Eta is  _hell_. That’s all there is to describe it. No Harry Potter -  _Lord Voldemort_  won. He controls the magical world. He murdered Headmaster Dumbledore, and uses Hogwarts as his own personal castle, his own personal headquarters from which he raids and destroys the Muggle world. You either have the Dark Mark, or you die. That’s all there is to my world. And it is the one place in the Multiverse where Draco Malfoy has  _no_  connection to Harry Potter. None. Nothing.”

 

            “So why force all the other Harrys and Dracos together then?” Alpha Draco sneered.

 

            “Because  _you did not know what you had right in front of you!?!_ ” Draconius roared, making everyone take a step back - except the Harrys, which all remained motionless. “I accidently discovered, via a slightly strange anomaly with a time turner and a potion my Uncle Severus had had me brew for practice, that I could at times, look into other worlds. Other places. And I discovered that in so many of them... there was both a Draco Malfoy  _and_  a Harry Potter. But so many of them  _hated each other_. They fought. They wasted what they could have had. I could not bear to see one more Draco Malfoy squander what they had before them. And so I made it my mission in life to  _fix_  what you have all done.” He snorted, shaking his head. “ _I had to save you from yourselves!_ ”

 

            “Is it just me,” Beta Draco muttered, “Or is he completely nutters?”

 

            “I am  _not_  nutters...” Draconius sneered, apparently having heard the comment. “I am brilliant. You don’t even  _care_  about what you have. You don’t matter, do you understand that?! All that matters is Harry Potter. And me. I will keep them  _all_  safe from you... you idiots who do not even appreciate them!”

 

            “Right.” Beta Draco snarked. “We matter. Draco Malfoy matters just as much as Harry Potter does.”

 

            “Liar!” Draconius shrieked, then snapped out his wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

 

            “Sheildus!” Gamma Draco yelled instinctively, throwing a gold energy shield up around them. The green light of the Killing Curse bounced off of it... and struck one of the Harrys who stood, still frozen, around the room.

 

            “No!” Draconius gasped, eyes widening in horror.

 

            The sheer amount of magic in the killing curse apparently ended whatever freezing charm Draconius had used, because that Harry suddenly drew in a sharp breath, back arching, eyes widening. “Draco...” he gasped, before he crumpled to the floor.

 

            The room was frozen as they stared in horror at the vision before them.

 

            Harry Potter lay sprawled on the floor, black hair arrayed around his face like a dark, messy cascade. His round glasses had slid halfways down his nose, and there was a spider-web crack through the left lens from where it had made solid contact with the stone floor. But most disturbing of all, were his emerald eyes. His mother’s eyes. The spark that had always marked Harry as so different was gone. His eyes were flat, dead, without life or spark. There was no emotion left, nothing but a vaguely confused expression, as if to say, ‘That’s it? I survive an attack from Voldemort as a child, face him every year for six years after that, get branded as the savior of the Wizarding World, and  _that’s it_? Hit by a stray curse meant to kill my rival? How pathetic. How anti-climactic. How can that be  _it_?’

 

            “ _No_!” Draconius roared, horrified, rushing forward to drop to his knees, and scoop the body up, cradling it to his chest. “ _NO_!”

 

            Nearly a hundred Dracos stared in horror, and surprise.

 

            Then the worst thought of all crossed every one of their minds.

 

             _Which one_ was _it?_

 

Whose Harry Potter now lay in that mad man’s lap, lifeless as the rock beneath them?

 

            Which one?

 

            “This ends  _now_ ,” Gamma Draco growled, snapping out his hands, making his shield drop. That was when anyone who was paying attention would have realized that he had just done so - and in fact had done the same with the shield - without the use of his wand, but no one there was really paying attention. “ _Finite Incantium_!”

 

            Collectively, nearly a hundred Harrys drew in a sharp breath, then all started moving at once, pushing forward, trying to escape that crushing place they’d had to see once in second year, and that had been too many times as it was, thank you very much.

 

            “Everyone grab onto someone!” Alpha Draco yelled, then gathered as much magic into himslef as he could manage.

 

            “Apparate!”


	39. Chapter 39

Track Change

 

Hogwarts Interdimensional Express

 

            “Let go!” Draconius screamed, clinging to the lifeless body in his arms. “Leave me alone!”

 

            Many Dracos were tugging on his arms, his robes, everything, tying to pull him away from the still body, and then several other Harrys had their hands on the robes of the still Harry, tugging at him. All in all, it looked a little odd, but Alpha Draco had something else in mind.

 

            Storming over to the map, he reached for it desperately, then snapped, “Rho Eta! Track Rho Eta!”

 

            The entire Hogwarts Interdimensional Express lurched, making Harrys and Dracos everywhere within the train fall over, then the door slide open, revealing, to everyone’s surprise, a Hogwarts dungeon hallway.

 

            “You’re coming with us,” Beta Draco growled, and yanked hard enough on Draconius’ robes to pull him away from the others.

 

            “No!” Draconius shrieked, trying to twist away as Alpha, Beta and Gamma Dracos hauled him off the train and into the hallway. “Leave me!”

 

            “Where are we  _taking_  him?” Gamma Draco hissed.

 

            “To Snape,” Alpha Draco grunted back through his teeth. “Let him deal with him.”

 

            “Are you insane?” Beta Draco hissed. “Have you forgotten that there  _is_  no Draco in this track? What in Merlin’s name is  _Snape_ going to do with him?!”

 

            “He  _told_  us to come to him if we found anything out,” Gamma Draco nodded once, tugging a little harder on the struggling Draconius’ arm. “So really, we’re only doing what he told us to.”

 

            Beta Draco just shook his head, but continued helping to drag the insane version of them along.

 

            A moment later, they burst, with all the great force that four identical young men can, into Potions Master Severus Snape’s personal office. Technically, they shouldn’t have been able to get through the heavily warded door, but apparently every Snape in every track is nearly the same, and the wards were identical to the same ones that all three of Alpha, Beta and Gamma Dracos had known how to get through since childhood.

 

            To their surprise, they found that Snape had been sitting at his desk, speaking to a very familiar brunette sitting in front of him.

 

            Harry stood, frowning. “What...?”

 

            “Uncle Sev,” Alpha Draco interrupted, looking directly at the greasy haired man, who had already stood by this point, but to be honest, did not look as surprised as one might imagine he would. “You won’t remember this, but you told us to come to you if we needed help with this whole thing... so here we are. We need help. Would you mind terribly, looking after this one for us?”

 

            As one, the three Dracos pushed Draconius forward, so that he stumbled forward on his own, nearly crashing into the desk. Eyes closed, he shuddered, gripping the edge of the desk.

 

            Harry still looked confused as all get out - how many times do  _you_  see four identical, attractive young men right in front of you? - but Snape was now rounding his desk, reaching out to take hold of Draconius’ chin, making him look up at him. “You’re Lucius’ son,” he said softly, making Draconius open his eyes. “Draconius. Draconius Lucian Malfoy.”

 

            Beta Draco tapped Alpha Draco’s arm lightly. “How’d he know that?”

 

            Alpha Draco just shook his head.

 

            “You’re Malfoy’s son?” Harry spoke up then, leaning forward and craning his head to better look at the blond. “I thought he didn’t have any children.”

 

            Draconius flinched, and turned to look at Harry, then froze abruptly. “Harry?” he breathed. 

 

            Harry frowned. “Yes?”

 

            “You don’t know me? You don’t know who I am?” Draconius pressed, straightening, and pulling away from Snape, who had a strange little half smirk on his face. “We’ve never met?”

 

            “No, we’ve never met,” Harry said slowly, very confused by this point.

 

            A light bloomed in Draconius’ formerly flat silver eyes, and a small, genuine smile began to grow on his face, as he reached forward, holding out a single hand. “Then allow me to introduce myself. My name is Draconius Lucian Malfoy, and it is my supreme pleasure to  _finally_  properly meet you.”

 

            Gamma Draco smirked, then hissed to Alpha, “He’s going to be whipped in no time.”

 

            “And you aren’t?” Alpha Draco hissed back, smirking.

 

            Harry looked at the extended hand for a long moment, then reached his own right hand forward, and firmly shook the proffered pale hand. “I’m Harry. I’m glad to meet you too. Father has told me so much about your family... but he told me that the Malfoys were all killed during the first war. I never thought I’d meet one, must less you.”

 

            “Father?” Beta Draco cut in, surprised.

 

            “Ah yes,” Snape sneered, looking pleased with himself. “Harry Snape. Looks so much like his father, doesn’t he?” When the three still at the door just gaped at him, he crossed his arms. “But beyond that... shouldn’t you be  _going_  somewhere?”

 

            Alpha Draco frowned. “How did you...?”

 

            “I have my ways,” Snape smirked. “Now. You’re potion is already starting to wear out - the massive burst of wandless magic you needed to transport Draconius is taxing it. You need to go now before you  _can’t_  go.” And with a fluid, easy motion, he tossed a small vial at them. Gamma Draco caught it. “Track Alpha Malfoy needs to drink it, so that the Express knows which is which. Beyond that... the Express will take you all to your proper tracks simultaneously. Just ask it to.”

 

            “Thank you, sir,” Beta Draco nodded. 

 

            “Go,” Snape nodded, then turned his back on them completely, turning his attention to the two young men who were currently talking excitedly in front of his desk.

 

            Gamma Draco nodded. “Let’s go.”


	40. Chapter 40

Track Change

 

Track Gamma

 

            Draco stepped off the train, nearly stumbling as he dropped nearly a foot onto the floor of the Shrieking Shack. His heart was pounding, and to admit the truth... he was scared.

 

            Everything was supposed to be finished. The potion would be gone in  _very_  short order - he had already noticed that it was almost gone when he’d left the train - it was like the air itself was clinging at him, trying to keep him on the train. Draconius wouldn’t be coming to bother them anymore - he had a very strong suspicion that, with that Harry, he would never really need to be infiltrating any other worlds.

 

            So everything  _should_ , in theory, be good.

 

            But he hadn’t seen Harry yet.

 

            And now his heart was constricting, like iron bands were wrapped around it, squeezing the organ until he couldn’t even feel it beat. Harry... practically his brother... he  _couldn’t_  be... Harry couldn’t have died a pointless death like that! Not Harry!

 

            But as he scanned the room, he couldn’t find Harry anywhere. There was no sign of him, no trace, nothing. He couldn’t even feel the blood bonds flaring up the way they used to, and that was when he realized that he was, absolutely, completely... alone.

 

            Draco bit down on his fist, nearly choking of his tears that he was trying to hold back. Harry was  _gone_...

 

            Throwing back the trapdoor in the floor, Draco nearly hurtled down the stairs, and began hurrying down the tunnel, staggering along, occasionally banging off the walls, until he finally reached the end of the tunnel, and struggled out from between the roots of the Whomping Willow. One of the branches took a swipe at him, and Draco felt it brush past his face with enough force to send him reeling to the side, but he crawled the rest of the way out from the flailing branches. Once beyond its range, Draco staggered to his feet again, and hurried towards the castle. At the last instant, he changed course, heading instead for the lake where he and Harry had spent many long evenings looking up at the stars over the water.

 

            Nearly collapsing on the shore in that place he’d deemed “their” spot, Draco was unable to hold it in any longer, and his sobs broke out, shoulders shaking as he let all his anguish out.

 

            It felt like hours later that Draco’s tears finally gave out, and he just lay in the dust, shoulders still shaking, lost in his own misery.

 

            The fact that he was still lost in his misery is probably why he didn’t notice that someone was walking up to where he lay.

 

            “Draco?” a soft voice asked, then suddenly, they started shouting. “Draco!”

 

            He didn’t move himself, but an instant later, Draco was pushed onto his back, and standing over him was an angel.

 

            Well, it had to be an angel. The sunlight was flaring behind them, dark hair forming a curly halo around his face, and through Draco’s tear blurred eyes, he looked like a real angel. Because it couldn’t really be him...

 

            “You’re hurt!” the other gasped, fingers ghosting across Draco’s cheek. “Draco...?”

 

            Draco reached his hand up slowly, gently touching the other’s face. “Harry...?”

 

            “What?” Harry asked, frowning. “What’s wrong? We’re back, everything’s fine - I just couldn’t find you...”

 

            Harry was quite effectively interrupted when Draco reached up, took Harry’s face in his hands, pulled himself up and kissed the other as passionately as he could manage.

 

            Harry stiffened for a moment, shocked by this development, then when he realized just what was really happening, he relaxed into the kiss. Draco moved his lips over the others, as though trying to imprint the memory of him in his mouth. Finally, Draco pulled back from Harry, relaxing back to the ground. There was a moment of pause, then Harry relaxed as well, essentially draping himself over Draco’s form. They both were breathing heavily, trying to calm down, until Harry smiled, and tucked his head under Draco’s chin. “What was that for?”

 

            “I thought I lost you,” Draco said softly, reaching up to card his fingers through Harry’s black hair, which had long ago lost his hair molding charm. “I am never,  _ever_  going to make that mistake again.”

 

            “Next time you’ll know you’ve lost me for sure?” Harry asked, feeling a little mischievous. Laughing when Draco glared at him, he reached up a little to stroke the back of his knuckles across Draco’s cheek. “I’m not going to let you loose me either. Draconius made me realize something... you... are... mine. Got that, Mr. Malfoy?”

 

            Draco smirked, leaning his head up a little to kiss Harry again. “So long as you realize, Mr. Potter, that you are completely, absolutely  _mine_.”

 

            Harry smirked. They really were two peas in a pod, after all.

 

            “Deal.”

 

            “Now. Let’s get to the Castle and bed, shall we?”


	41. Chapter 41

Track Change

 

Track Beta

 

            Draco landed with a soft thump on the once-table transfigured couch in the classroom he and Harry had worked at their situation in since September.

 

            As he started sitting up, Harry stepped out of the train too, and conveniently enough, landed in the same place Draco had landed. Which meant, of course, that he landed  _on_  Draco, who let out a muffled “Oof!” and tried to push back on Harry. “Gerrof!”

 

            “Sorry!” Harry said quickly, and clambered off of the blond. “Didn’t mean it, honest...”

 

            “Of course you didn’t,” Draco said sarcastically. “You never do, do you?”

 

            “Hey...” Harry muttered, frowning. “You’d think after all the crap  _we’ve_ been through, you could lay off a little, couldn’t you?”

 

            “You’re right,” Draco said firmly, making Harry look up at him in unmasked shock. “We have been through a lot together, and it’s about time we make some kind of truce.” Sticking his right hand out, he looked at Harry seriously. “Let’s start over again. Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy. You are?”

 

            Harry looked down at his offered hand for a long moment, then glanced up, grin fighting its way onto his face. Putting out his own hand, he grasped the others firmly, shaking. “Harry Potter. And the pleasure is all mine.”

 

            Draco smirked, pulling his hand back to cross his arms. “Have you put any thought into my offer of helping you find the right sort of friends?”

 

            Harry laughed, leaning back into the couch. “I don’t know about that. If your alternate self is any indication, then you might try to take over every aspect of my life in my ‘best interests’. I don’t know if I can trust you to pick the right sort of friends for me.”

 

            “Well, in that case,” Draco leaned forward a little, a predatory gleam in his silver eyes. “Have you given any more thought to Draconius’ proposition?”

 

            “Which proposition?” Harry asked, frowning in confusion. He was honestly very cute when confused.

 

            “Oh, I don’t know...” Draco reached forward to casually tap his finger tips against Harry’s arm. “Maybe if I climbed into your bed tonight when your housemates are sleeping, you’ll remember. Or perhaps... we could find ourselves an empty hallway in the dungeons?”

 

            “Oh Merlin,” Harry muttered, hands going up to cover his cherry red face. “Draco!”

 

            “Mmm yes, I think I could get used to that...” Draco grinned, leaning forward. “So?”

 

            Lowering his hands a little, Harry peered at the blond over his fingertips.

 

            “Well...”

 

            “Yes?”

 

            “I suppose... we could see what the attraction is...”

 

            “I like the sounds of that. Come here.”


	42. Chapter 42

Track Change

 

Track Alpha

 

            Harry’s fingers had somehow found their way back to the front of Draco’s jumper, so that when they stumbled back into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, Harry fell back against a sink, dragging Draco along with him. They stood for an awkward moment, Harry nearly sitting on the sink, Draco pulled flush against him, their noses only an inch apart.

 

            “Hi,” Harry said at last, a little breathlessly.

 

            “Hello,” Draco answered, smirking a little.

 

            “Umm...” Harry tried again, but didn’t release the sweater.

 

            “Still find me irresistible, Potter?”

 

            “Merlin, you’re evil...” Harry muttered, but still didn’t let go.

 

            “Oh, hello,” another voice said, and both boys jumped, leaping away from each other as though they were both north poles of two magnets. Spinning, they found Moaning Myrtle herself floating behind them, arms crossed behind her back. “You decided to come back, did you? Your friends will be pleased.”

 

            Harry gulped. “Yeah, about that... what did they do?”

 

            “The Weasley almost destroyed the place. Your bushy haired friend - Hermione? - barely stopped him. They weren’t very pleased with you.”

 

            Harry groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “This is going to take some real damage control...”

 

            Draco chuckled. “Give them a little longer to stew. Then you’ll only need to apologize once.”

 

            Harry turned to him, and frowned. “What in the world will I need to apologize for after this? That doesn’t make much sense.”

 

            “Don’t worry,” Draco smirked. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

            Harry shot him a very suspicious look, and Myrtle actually giggled.

 

            “Here,” Draco motioned to the door. “Shall we go? We can go find your ‘friends’.”

 

            Harry glared at him a little, but nodded, and headed out of the girls bathroom. They walked in silence for some time, until finally Draco broke the silence. “Where are you planning to look for them, Harry? Out of curiosity.”

 

            “Well...” Harry leaned over to check Draco’s watch. “It’s ten after twelve, so everyone will be in the Great Hall for lunch. I can find them there, I’m sure. It makes the most sense... and if they’re not there, I can always check Dumbledore’s office... he’ll know. Or the common room.”

 

            “Ah, the Great Hall.” Draco smirked, an odd gleam in his silver eyes. “Perfect.”

 

            “What are you on about?” Harry asked, glancing askance at the odd blond.

 

            “You’ll see,” Draco said blithely.

 

            “Bloody git,” Harry muttered, and then they were turning the corner into the front entrance, and passing through the great oak doors to the Great Hall.

 

            Sure enough, everyone was there, and there, amongst the Gryffindors, there sat Hermione and Ron.

 

            “Oh good,” Harry sighed, looking very relieved.

 

            Well, he started relieved.

 

            In fact, for a moment, he looked even more relieved when Hermione looked up, and spotted him in the entrance way, and stood up abruptly, making Ron look up in surprise. When the redhead spotted him too, he bolted to his feet, grinning. “Hey, Harry!” Ron called, making pretty much every other person in the Great Hall look up in surprise, so they all also saw Harry and Draco standing in the entrance. And that included all the Professors and the Headmaster as well.

 

            “Ah...” Draco murmured softly enough that only Harry could hear him, though he had to turn to face him to make sure that the blond Slytherin had said anything at all. “Perfect timing.”

 

            “For what?” Harry asked, a little concerned.

 

            “For what you’ll need to apologize for,” Draco said calmly, then turned, wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist and the other around his neck, then dipped him back so far Harry had to grab at Draco’s back to keep from collapsing to the floor. Draco smirked at him for a moment, hissed, “About time, isn’t it?” and kissed Harry right there, in front of the entire Great Hall.

 

            Several plates and forks dropped to the floor, and Hermione let out a shocked gasp that sounded somewhat horrified.

 

            Harry froze, about to push Draco away, when Draco’s left hand started to massage the back of Harry’s neck, and Harry felt himself relax, nearly melting into Draco’s arms, and completely, absolutely letting himself open to that kiss. For that matter, he really forgot where they were, because quite frankly, Draco tasted too good to pass up, and it wasn’t like he was going to get  _this_ opportunity again anytime soon.

 

            All too soon, Draco pulled back, and when Harry slowly opened his eyes, he found himself looking up at a smirking Draco Malfoy.

 

            “You’re cute when your looking thoroughly snogged,” Draco rubbed his nose against Harry’s, imitating the same Eskimo kiss Harry had given him earlier. “Want a repeat performance?”

 

            “Merlin,  _yes_...” Harry breathed, amazed.

 

            Draco smirked. “Then, after you apologize to your friends... want to meet back in Myrtle’s bathroom?”

 

            “What do I need to apologize for again?” Harry asked, quite sure that Draco’s intoxicating kiss had made him loose all his sense.

 

            “Harry James Potter!” Hermione Granger’s voice screeched  _way_  too close to them, making Harry jump.

 

            “What the bloody hell are you doing kissing that  _ferret_?!” Ron yelled.

 

            Draco was grinning like a cat who had just left the family canary on the doorstep. “For that.”

 

            Harry groaned. “Great.”

 

            Draco stood, pulling Harry up to stand too, though he still had to cling to Draco to keep his balance. “See you at 8?”

 

            Harry sighed. “See you at 8.”

 

            “Until then,” Draco nodded, then stepped back, smirking cheekily at Hermione and Ron. “Granger. Weasley.”

 

            And then he walked away.

 

            Harry swallowed, then turned to face his friends, who were looking at him fiercely, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

 

            “Hey guys.”

 

            “Harry.”

 

            “I can explain.”


	43. Chapter 43

Epilogue

 

            Draconius screamed.

 

            Back arching, he clenched his fist and teeth, trying desperately to keep from screaming again, biting back his cries at the torture he was facing. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried hard as he could, but he couldn’t hold it back, and screamed again.

 

            “Oh God,  _Harry!_ ”

 

            Harry grinned through a mouthful of Draconius, humming cheerily as he swallowed around Draco’s cock, delighting in the way Draconius clenched at the sheets, screaming again.

 

            “Harry, I...”

 

            Harry hummed in acknowledgment of Draconius’ warning, then swallowed as his lover climaxed. When finally Draconius slumped back to the mattress, breathing heavily, Harry sat up, licking his lips and crawling forward at kiss the blond.

 

            “Mmm...” Draco moaned into the other’s mouth, reaching up to pull the other flush on top of himself. Breaking from the kiss, he looked up into emerald eyes, smiling. “You are, without a doubt, the most amazing person in the universe, Harry Severus Snape.”

 

            Harry chuckled, and angled his head to nibble on Draconius’ earlobe. “Well, thank you. I’m rather attached to you, myself.”

 

            Surging forward, Draconius flipped them both, so that he knelt over Harry, grinning ferally. “Mind if I take you literally on that one?”

 

            “Take me, hmm?” Harry grinned, and wrapped his legs around Draconius’ hips, pulling them together. “I like the sounds of that.”

 

            Snape smirked, and turned away from his son’s bedroom door, content to leave the two of them to their distractions. Instead, he reached to pick up his glass from his desk, then paused, and disappeared.

 

            A moment later, and Rho Eta Snape was stepping onto the Hogwarts Interdimensional Express, glass in hand.

 

            “Ah, good evening,” Beta Snape greeted him, holding his own glass up in salute. “How is Draconius working out?”

 

            “Better than we thought he would,” Rho Eta Snape nodded, settling himself down onto one of the plastic benches, sipping at the drink. “I’m glad we figured this all out - poor Harry needed someone better than that Weasley girl that keeps hanging around him.”

 

            Tau Omicron Eta Snape laughed once, sharply. “ _You’re_  glad? Draconius has been driving me insane, always asking me to help him with his transport potions, wanting me to give him advice on how to pair this combination or that combination of Harrys and Dracos together. I’ll miss him, I admit it... but he’s better off in a world like yours... a world where he’s not at Voldemort’s beck and call, without even someone to make it worthwhile.”

 

            “Being philosophical again, are we?” Alpha Snape asked, having come onto the train for the tail end of Tau Omicron Eta Snape’s speech. “How melodramatic.”

 

            “Who’s Harry was killed?” Gamma Snape asked, frowning. “My Draco thought it was his, but in the end, Harry was fine.”

 

            “Mine,” Tau Mu Eta Snape said, looking wearily into the glass of amber liquid he held. “Draco’s heartbroken, but I’ve nudged Ginerva Weasley in his direction.”

 

            “Wealsey?” Theta Snape sneered, flicking her long, lanky black hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. She  _is_  a Weasley.”

 

            “Yes,” Tau Mu Eta Snape agreed, sighing. “But they do have one thing in common - they were both in love with the boy who lived, and neither of them wanted to admit it.”

 

            “Ah,” Lambda Delta Snape nodded. “Typical then.”

 

            Pi Beta Snape looked up, thoughtfully. “So the typical reaction to all of this was...”

 

            “Snogging in public places,” Alpha Snape said calmly.

 

            “Snogging in public places,” Xi Beta Snape agreed.

 

            “I would have to say that is the general consensus.” Chi Eta Snape nodded.

 

            “Potter didn’t  _kill_  Draco, at least, when he found himself in our hiding place when he came back,” Sigma Iota Snape sighed, brushing greasier than normal hair back from his face. “I thought he might... but then he decided I was more of a threat. Draco’s looking after him at the moment, so we’ll see how things look. Perhaps Potter will... not kill us, in any case.”

 

            “The potion was worth all that effort, then,” Epsilon Snape nodded. “It took far too long to figure it out, but it was well worth it in the end.”

 

            “Excellent,” Rho Eta Snape nodded. “That was, after all, the point, wasn’t it?”

 

            “Yes,” Alpha Snape smirked, feeling rather pleased with himselves.  

 

            “It was, wasn’t it?”

 


End file.
